


Große Schwäche Fluch (The curse of greatest Weakness)

by Splotcher



Series: Scarred Hearts [1]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Gen, M/M, Royals, Team as Family, Whump, bad parenting and family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:18:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splotcher/pseuds/Splotcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean Renard was a powerful, proud man that worked hard for his city. But one night, one mistake threatens to tear down this kingdom he has built, and he can't find a way to fix it. Not without the help of someone he cannot ask, to do something that he will not allow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And so it begins

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo friends. Would you believe this is my fiftieth posting? It has been awhile since I updated...well, anything really, and for that I apologize. I haven't forgotten them, but damn if Grimm hasn't captured my imagination.
> 
> Anyway, this story will (hopefully) comprise of several different prompts I found on Grimm-kink when I was sniffing around for inspiration and are as follows (I will try to find the addresses for them and post later, promise) though they have been paraphrased.
> 
> 1) Renard gets sent to the hospital and is amazed at the outpouring of support from people  
> 2) someone in Renard's past (ancient/otherwise) lays a curse on Renard in which the cure is to give up his iron control to someone else. It is the only way to remove the curse.  
> 3)Numerous prompts asking for someone to 'take care' (fluff, gen, etc.) Renard because he needs to be taken care of.
> 
> So now that you know the underlying inspiration, I hope that you will comment and leave any constructive criticisms you can. Please keep in mind I am behind about a season or two and as such, I may be making references that are a bit dated.
> 
> __Splotch

He sits at his desk in the darkened precinct, watching the paperwork steadfastly refuse to disappear as the rain softly patters overhead through too-thin walls. 

It is one of so many nights like this. He hates to go home. After the debacle with Juliette and the Zaubertrank, the wine looks a bit too inviting, and while the overwhelming need to drink himself into a stupor is no longer there, the desire has slipped insidiously behind his defenses. The whole episode has brought up some nasty memories that need to stay buried for his own sanity and for any chance he has to salvage his relationship with the Grimm.

A Grimm he knows is still having trouble with his girlfriend, even after everything has come out. He supposes he is to blame, having spurned Adalind. Giving her his trust, too willing to overlook deficiency as long as she looked on him with such loyalty. It was his fault.

His fault.

A loud snap startles him from his reverie and he glances down to see the pen he was writing with has been broken. He hastily tips it into the trash before it can make a mess.

The paperwork still refuses to budge, so he retrieves another pen from his desk and starts again. An hour later his eyes start to blur and he realizes that he will not get anymore done tonight. He surrenders his pen and paperwork to tomorrow and gets up, gathering his coat and leaving the precinct, finally, at one in the morning. The car in the garage is waiting for him, and he needs sleep in order to function tomorrow.

Later, he will acknowledge that it is his lack of sleep that left him so vulnerable. Later, he will look back upon what is about to happen and acknowledge that this, too, is his fault. As it was, he only made it ten feet into the garage before he was set upon. 

Then there is only pain.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

He wakes slowly the first time, the blur of overhead lights causing his head to swim. Someone says something, but he can’t hear over the dull roar in his head. He is dimly aware of someone touching his shoulders before he loses his grip on consciousness. 

The second time he awakens there are more people, but his head is still swimming and the murky darkness drags him down.

He is out again for an indeterminable amount of time. When he comes to again he Forces himself not to go under once more, struggling into consciousness with an incredible effort. The first thing he is aware of is the white. White walls, white monitors beeping a slow, steady tempo. A hospital? Yes, it had to be. He tries to move, but his arms feel heavy. Drugs. He hates that.

He takes in more of his surroundings. There is nothing in the room to suggest that were any visitors aside from nurses. He felt a slight pang. He tamped down on it quickly. He’d been in hospitals before where no one had come to see him. It shouldn’t be affecting him now. And there was no real telling how long he’d been here.

As he takes stock, a nurse bustles through a door. She looks at him at surprise. “Oh my! You’re awake. You shouldn’t be yet. Let me get one of the officers.” She’s gone before he can ask her what’s happened.

He’s been attacked, but the reason…well the reason could be any number of things, actually. He still is held in less than high regard by his family and that is only the tip of the iceberg. That doesn’t even take into account all of the wesen he had ousted from the city in order to keep the peace. He doesn’t even remember what the bastards that jumped him looked like. A sucker punch was the American idiom, and so very apt. 

A brief noise from the door caused him to look toward Sergeant Wu as he entered. The man looked him over in the bed.

“Shit Captain. You catch the plates on the bus that hit you? Or the train?” Wu stands by his bed. “You look like hell.”

He opens his mouth to say something but finds speech difficult.

“I wouldn’t try it. You have a nasty bruise on your throat. But don’t worry Captain. I called everybody. We’ll catch whoever did this.”

He is feeling tired despite himself. There are so many questions he wants to ask. Were there witnesses? How long has he been out? Was there any leads? Why was he even here? 

He doesn’t get the chance to ask before consciousness slips away again.

^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

When he gets to the precinct, it is swarming with cops, some of which he has never seen before. There are, surprisingly, several wesen in uniform that give him cursory nods as they hustle to and fro. He sees Hank at their desks and hurries over. Hank looks at him as he gets off whatever phonecall he was on. “That was Wu. The Captain woke up for about three minutes and passed back out. He said the Captain couldn’t talk.”

“Somebody did a number on him then.”

“Or several somebodies. Captain Renard is not a small guy, and on top of the rest…” He leaves the statement hanging, knowing that his partner will understand and that others might be listening.

Nick takes a moment to look around the precinct. There’s an urgent, tense undertone to the room. It is times like these that cops tend to close ranks, become hyper vigilant and more than ready to hunt down an offending party. He had known that Captain Renard was considered a good Captain here, but he still can’t believe the number of cops from other precincts that have arrived in swarms. All of them looked grim and determined.

“Detective Burkhardt?”

He startles a bit and turns to look at a young rookie beat cop. She looks him in the eyes and for a second he senses wesen, but she doesn’t woge. 

“Can I help you?” He asks cautiously. She nods.

“I need to see you and your partner in private. It’s important.” She nodded towards the hall.

He and Hank share a look before following here through the mob of officers to the much quieter hall and out to the garage. They pass the heavily taped area where blood has been smeared on unforgiving concrete, and he knows it belongs to the Captain. There was quite a bit-whoever had done this had no misgivings about spilling royal blood. When they have an illusion of being alone, the rookie turns to them. Her eyes are full of barely contained fury.

“What are you doing here?! You should be out finding the bastards that did this. You are a Grimm and He is the Prince, every second you spend here makes him look weak!” She snarls at him. “Why are you standing around? I thought you were supposed to be-“

“Officer Shay.”

Her mouth snapped shut as she whirled around to look at the grizzled lieutenant that had seemingly appeared from nowhere. “Officer Shay, report to the head of your unit. You are going to be late for assignments.”

“But-“

“Don’t make me pull rank. Either of them.”

The rookie glared at them both and left.

“Sorry about that. The young ones are impetuous in any species. This business with the Prince has everyone on edge too.” The lieutenant pulls out a cigarette. “Do you mind? My wife says I should quit but I’m old. Set in my ways.” He puffs a moment, surveying the two men quietly. 

“And you are?” Hank asks after a moment.

“DeMarco.”

“First name?”

“Lieutenant.”

Hank snorts a bit at that.

Nick gives the old cop an appraising look. “So what was that about? I didn’t know Captain Renard had such a following.”

“Lots of things you probably don’t know. Did you know he cleaned up the city when he first got here? Even allowed Wesen to enter the police force? I mean, nothing was gonna stop me, but it sure is nice for ones like Shay. Man has done a lot of good, for all he hides out in the shadows like some French vampire. Thank god he doesn’t sparkle in the sun. I don’t know if I could respect a sparkly cop. The Prince could probably pull it off. My youngest daughter likes that stuff. No accounting for taste, but-“

“Right. Hey, can we get back to Renard?” Nick interrupts. “Like, what Officer Shay said about him looking weak?”

“Just some old bullshit some of the vultures are passing around. You don’t worry about that, people are always willing to badmouth the top dog when he’s got the muzzle on. Focus on catching these assholes, and the rumor mill, well, you let me and some of the others deal with that.” DeMarco flips them a lazy salute and leaves them in the garage alone.

Hank tuts a bit. “Ever get the feeling you’ve been unceremoniously shoved out of the loop?”

“So much the last few years, it’s insane.” Nick feels a little puzzled by DeMarco’s help, but he does have a job to do. “We should check out the crime scene again while we’re here, and all the cameras. See who we’re looking at.”

“And what.” Hank added grimly.

^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^


	2. Defensive reactions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurs to me that I never said the usual bit about not owning Grimm. If I did, I would be up to date.
> 
> There will be OCs in this, but I'm hoping that they compliment the story- I will do my best to keep them believable when they appear.
> 
> To those that commented and bookmarked, thank you very much. I appreciate feedback.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticisms are always appreciated. Flames are looked upon with bemusement before generally ignored.
> 
> Thank you very much,
> 
> \--Splotch

^*^**^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

“You have got to be kidding me.” He glares at the TV, and the complete lack of evidence it had supplied him with.

“That’s what I said to the tech officer.”

Both men stare as the tape repeats in fast forward, and Renard walks into the garage. His shoulders are bowed, a rare show of exhaustion and strain that makes Nick wince a bit in sympathy. He knew that their relationship had been strained since Juliette, the key and learning about his Captain’s particular nature. But the man had helped. And he had given the key back, knowing that it could have increased his standing with whatever bizarre family politics he was embroiled in. It is for these reasons, and what DeMarco had said in the garage, that makes him grudgingly willing to consider repairing his relationship with the Captain. 

Of course, the fact that the man had just gotten his ass handed to him did quell the part of him that wanted to fight the man, to knock him down a few pegs for all the bullshit that he had caused. Because when the Captain made all of about four steps into the garage, the cameras cut out to white snow, and came back on with the Captain lying unnaturally still in a pool of his own blood. He stayed that way for over an hour (Nick speeds up the fast forward here, not wanting to see this scene any longer than necessary) before another night owl found him. There on the camera the man visually panics, reaching for his phone, goes to reach over and check on the Captain’s pulse, only to slip on blood and panic some more.

“Who was that?” Nick asks, pointing at the man.

“Detective Smithers. Did that drug bust downtown last year. Went to white collar not too long after.” Hank is grim, watching the scene. “I’m guessing the Captain being what he is probably what saved him. That much blood…still, I got a hand it to the man. He must be damn hard to kill. I doubt I would have survived that, whatever the hell it was.”

“We need to look at cameras outside the precinct. If this was a group, we should see them.”

“And if it’s one person?” Hank glances over and sees Nick’s face. “You may give me that look, but I have seen werewolves, coyote people and god knows what else. And we need to consider that this might be one dude. Anybody in your rogue’s gallery capable of that?”

“Siegbarste, maybe, but from what I’ve seen of the Captain, he should be able to handle one.” His gut tells him there is more than one perp here.

“Unless it got the drop on him.” Hank pointed out.

“There is that.” He concedes. Then he shakes his head. “Let’s get a look outside the precinct.”

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^^*^*^*^**^*^^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^

He wakes up hazily again, blinking away the effects of the drugs and the light. The first thing he notices is that the stark white of his room has somehow been transformed into a cacophony of color. He stares at it, a mild undertone of panic taking him as he surveys the room. He has to check the positions of the monitors and what he knew of the room before he had slipped back into unconsciousness. After confirming that this was, indeed his room and not some sort of strange holding cell full of flowers and balloons, he slips into a sort of woozy bemusement.

If anyone had asked him, he might have said that he would have expected some show from a mayor or some society looking to show their support by sending some small arrangement to an officer injured on duty. This was far beyond that, and he honestly doesn’t know what to think. Was someone trying to make a point? 

He can see the muted forms of someone just outside in the tiny window of the door. A guard? He can fuzzily remember someone…no, Wu, saying that they had called everyone. Of course they would. He was a police captain and this was a perceived threat against the department. He shifts his arms, remembering how heavy they had felt in their drugged stupor. They feel slightly lighter, but he would be having difficulty moving around for a while until the drugs dissipated in his system. Not a long time. His Zauberbiest nature would make sure of that, a double-edged sword that would bring with it the pain he knew he must be in. 

He struggles up, pushing up to his elbows with a herculean effort. He should probably take note of whatever they have him on, because he hasn’t felt this out of it in all of his conscious memory. He needs to know what it is, to counteract it in the future, to prepare-

A searing pain in his abdomen causes his train of thought to derail and he just holds still, breathing through it as quietly as possible. It gives him a moment to take stock of his injuries.

His torso is heavily bandaged. His left arm is splinted. A shift of his leg under the covers informs him of some sort of puncture wound on his right thigh and a stiffness in his left knee, possibly from the bandages but more likely from the tell-tale strain of tight muscles signaling a badly wrenched knee. He’d had a few. What areas of skin he can see are mottled with bruises. 

A brief conversation floats muted from the door. It opens, and a vaguely familiar nurse hustles in. She draws herself up. “Young man, you need to lay back down. You are in no condition to move. I’m going to get the doctors, they will help you get back to sleep.”

“No!” His voice cracks hard, raspy like it hasn’t been used in years. Ah yes. The throat injury. Mustn’t forget that. 

The nurse looks ready to argue, but he can’t have any more drugs. Being helpless isn’t something he can afford.

An officer from the hall looks into the room, having heard his objection. He recognizes the woman as a member of Captain Donovan’s squad, from a precinct across town. Captain Donovan had a high number of wesen in her unit.

“I need to speak with the Captain.” The officer stepped into the room now, towering over the nurse.

“This man needs rest!”

“I need to speak with him about the incident that put him here. Any time wasted is another minute the perpetrators get away. Talk to the doctor if you have a problem but I am speaking to him now.” The nurse is ushered out and the door is politely but firmly shut in her face.

There is a beat of silence while the nurse moves away from the door. 

She turns from the door, and comes to the side of his bed. She takes off her cap and bows her head (brown hair, wavy, savagely tamed) in respect. “Your highness.”

He tries to speak but the words get caught and he begins to cough before ruthlessly getting the reaction under control. He cannot afford to show more weakness than he already has.

“I am Officer Osburn. I want you to know that we are working around the clock to deal with this incident. Captain Donovan sends word that wesen from all precincts are on the lookout for any suspicious persons, including any out of town arrivals. Is there someone you want me to call, to let them know where you are?”

He knows she probably means a personal connection, but there is no one. Instead he takes a proffered pen and pad and scrawls down the number of the closest thing he has to an attorney. He needs to get out, and he may need the Fuchsbau to argue his case for him. And he needs the man to contact his fixer. There is only so much the police can do, and if Nick isn’t working with them because of the incident with Juliette, then he needed to take steps.

The officer accepts the pad. “Is there anything you remember from the attack?”

“No. They got me from behind.” He is proud of how strong his voice sounds on this third try.

A flash of anger crosses the young officer’s face turning blue eyes a sharp gold followed by wave of feathers which are gone as quickly. Steinadler. She bows her head to him again. “I will make the call. Is there anything else?”

“Tell me what has happened so far.”

*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^

He wakes up to a call at an ungodly hour on a day he is supposed to be sleeping in, takes it with his usual amount of courtesy. Then he hangs up, shoots out of bed, and hobbles through his morning routine.

He isn’t a lawyer. He doesn’t want to be. But he did have the training courtesy of a Father who wanted his son to be legally protected in the new world, and he could have passed the bar if he really wanted. But he preferred numbers and money. It was easier, and his Mother had always encouraged it. Which made this request bizarre, but not problematic.

He dresses quickly, tames his short black hair. A mere fifteen minutes after the call, he stand in front of a mirror, smoothing a tie and fixing his glasses straight on his nose, blue eyes still blinking sleep rapidly out of his eyes. He pulls on his coat and steps into the world, locking the door behind him and waving down the first Taxi he sees.

The driver is Reningen, and takes his directions to the hospital. On his arrival at the hospital, he pays the driver his tab and a large tip. Then he hobbles up to the doors, entering a world of antiseptic scents and irritatingly white walls.

He finds the floor and room courtesy of the caller’s direction. To be honest, the angry looking cops were a dead giveaway. One of them watched him limp towards them with open hostility, while a female officer watched him appraisingly. 

“I am here to see Captain Renard.” He says as he finally reaches the door.

“What business do you have here?” The hostile cop glares at him.

“I was called by Officer Osburn, and summoned here by Captain Renard. He is expecting me, so if you kindly move aside…”

He sees Schakal in the hostile cop before the man is pushed aside lightly by the woman. She towers over him. “Salazar Thorne?”

He sighs. “Salazar is a name picked by a fanciful woman. Sal, please. Or Mister Thorne, if you are feeling particularly formal. I need to see my client now.” He pushes past with less resistance, opening the door and stepping inside. The Schakal starts to protest, but he lets the door swing shut, effectively cutting the officer off.

He steps stiffly over to the bed, where his biggest client is currently breathing shallowly, looking very pale indeed. The bruises stand out in stark contrast to the white bindings across his chest and arm. The damage is horrifying, but the man in the bed has obviously refused to take it lying down.

He waits for the other man to get his breathing under control before he speaks. “This is startlingly like that time in Detroit when you were just Detective Renard. If this was anything like then, I have an idea of what you want. Would you mind terribly telling me why you had the nice officers outside call your accountant instead of your lawyer?”

“My lawyer was Adalind.” Prince Renard manages, voice raspy.

“…You didn’t think to get a new one after her run-in with the Grimm?”

“I was vetting a replacement. None of them were trustworthy enough. And I knew you were available in an emergency. It is better to take the time to be sure before bringing someone in.” The Prince’s voice made his own throat twinge in sympathy.

He rubs at an eye. “What do you need, Highness? I can get you out, but I’m not sure you should. With respect, you don’t look like death warmed over. You look like death warmed up, forgotten, warmed up again, and eventually tossed down the disposal.”

“I will heal. But I can’t be here.”

“I know your nature gives you the ability to heal, but let’s be realistic. Is there a threat here?” He looks around the room at the gaudy balloons and colorful flowers. “Are there enemies in the gifts? That Teddy Bear in the police officer costume is adorable, by the by.”

“Thorne.” The voice from the bed holds an undercurrent of threat, regardless of how weak its owner sounds. 

He sighs. “I’ll get you out, but if you expect to walk out of here alone, you are sorely mistaken. If the two on guard outside the door are any indication, you will have a protection detail whether you like it or not.”

“They will leave when I am safely home. That’s all they need to do.” 

“What they need, and what they want, that’s two different things. Give me twenty minutes to browbeat the doctors into submission.” He turns to leave.

“I also need you to call Nico.” The statement made him pause and then count slowly to ten. 

“As you wish, Your Highness. I will also call upon…Mr. Nico.”

^^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^


	3. In my canton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reviewing, kudosing, bookmarking! I greatly appreciate the support, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!
> 
> __Splotch

It takes about an hour to fully extract himself from the hospital. The doctors are furious, and oddly enough, one of them is wesen and extremely upset with his departure. In the end, he has to agree to take a multitude of drugs and medicines home with him, along with the promise that he will have round the clock supervision. That promise may or may not be kept, as he continues to have the lingering shadows of Osburn and her partner following him a few cars back. When he meets up with Nico, he will have to politely, but firmly, dismiss them back to Donovan’s corner of the city.

His clothes are still spattered in blood, having not sent Thorne off to retrieve another set. His desire to leave as soon as possible had overridden his need for clean clothes, which no doubt explained the cabdriver’s look of mild horror as he had (painfully) slid into the backseat with Thorne.

He doesn’t have to ask where they are going, knowing Thorne will take him home as ordered. Thorne very rarely went against his orders, though he had a regrettable amount of independence that would have gotten him killed with any other royal. 

He knew the trip was relatively short, but his ribs screamed in protest. Years of practice kept his discomfort off his face, and if Thorne noticed, he kindly kept it to himself.

It gave him time to think about the attack. He still had no idea who could have attacked him, and that was a dangerous position to be in. He turned to look at Thorne. “When will Nico be able to meet?”

“He will meet us at your place of residence, Captain Renard.” Thorne said as he focused on his phone. “He will probably beat us there.”

“Good.”

The rest of the trip passed in silence despite a few unfortunate attempts by the driver to lure them into conversation. He was not wesen, and even if he was, Renard was loathe to talk outside the safety of his warded home.

When they arrived outside of the apartment building, a familiar black sedan was parked on the street. He got out of the cab with a minimum of outside struggle, though he did have to grip the door frame tightly to steady himself so his vision could clear. Thorne busied himself with paying the driver, leaving him to close the car door and walk to the building entrance. 

By the time the doorman opened the door for him, he had picked up two sets of footsteps behind him. “Would you be so kind as to inform the officers that they are no longer needed, and that they can return to their duties?”

“Of course, Captain Renard,” The doorman nodded. “Sal.”

“Rick.” The fuchsbau nodded to the man while following Renard in. The other man followed with a congenial nod to the doorman.

One quick, silent elevator ride up to his flat later and he finally felt a weight lift from his shoulders as he felt the wards test his two guests and found them to be non-threatening. 

He waited for his second guest to put up electronic countermeasures before turning to face him. “I don’t think I have ever seen you in this state, Your Majesty. Are you sure you should have left the hospital?”

“I need to stay in an area that is secured. I can’t do that in a hospital.” 

“While I would agree, you look like shit.” The Luison drawled. His slick black hair and dark sunglasses matched his dark suit ensemble. “Perhaps some bed rest would-“

“I don’t need bed rest!” He snapped, finally to the end of his patience. “I need to know who did this and what their game is. The police are already looking into this, but I need you to look into it outside of the legal system. Tell me everything you find.”

“And if I find them?” Nico cocked his head to the side. “You are hardly in the state to do anything about it.”

“I will leave you to deal with any underlings as you see fit. But I want the ringleader.” Renard straightened up despite the injuries, rage at the situation he has found himself in finally bubbling up. “I cannot allow this to go unanswered. _I will not be seen as weak in my own canton._ ”

Nico nodded in acquiescence. “Of course. It will be done.” The Luison turned for the door, leaving the electronic jammers in the room. Before he left, he stopped at the door. “Some of my men will be guarding the building entrance. You’ll know they’re mine.”

He is gone before Renard can refuse him. Renard pulls his emotions under control before turning to Thorne.

“I need-“

“You need to get out of those clothes before the smell of sour blood permeates your apartment. Speaking from experience, it isn’t pleasant and damnably difficult to get out of upholstery. Let Nico, your Grimm, and the rest of the city deal with what they can-you should focus on healing before your body gives out.” Thorne said while checking his phone yet again. “If you don’t want to be seen as weak, it would be in your best interest not to faint in your next meeting, Your Highness.”

He wants to refuse him out of spite, but the fuchsbau is right, and he would rather get out of these clothes. He tosses the jacket over a chair despite the crinkling of Thorne’s nose in disgust. “See yourself out. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“While I thank you for the chance to get back to my day off, I’m sure those lovely doctors will be so pleased to hear about-when did you get a tattoo, Your Highness?”

He freezes at the change in conversation. “I don’t have a tattoo.”

“…You do now. Between left shoulder and neck. I can see it through a rip in your shirt.” 

He leaves Thorne in the living area to get into the bath room, hurriedly undoing buttons as he goes. The shirt falls from his shoulders as he awkwardly twists to see what is on his back.

He feels his blood run colder as he recognizes a curse seal on his back. He has seen but a few in his lifetime, and all of them are particularly viscious. His mind races to recognize this one, but its unique symols escape him. He will have to research this one. As it is, this curse seal is more than likely the only reason he is alive. No one would go through the trouble, rare ingredients, and time to put one on a man they were just going to kill.

They put it on one they wanted to suffer. 

But at the very least, it gave him time. Time to figure out how to fix this mess.

A light rap at the doorjamb reminded him he was not alone in his apartment. He looked at Thorne’s reflection in the glass. “I need you to look into purchases. Anyone buying a high amount of perishable rare materials. Check the alchemy shops, the spice shops. And the Health Food stores. Look specifically for squid inks, they can’t use anything but fresh for something like this.”

Thorne nods. “Should I send one of Nico’s men or the Officers you know haven’t left up to sit with you?”

“No. I’ll be fine. But I need that information.”

Thorne turns away. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

“Okay, so what are we up to?” Hank says, writing on his notepad.

“I’ve seen at least seven potential suspects, all of which were heading towards the precinct, and then ended up off camera and never show up again. Two of which are wesen.” Nick drags a hand across his face, stubble beginning to show. “We have several pictures to start circulating, but what we have is circumstantial at best. Until we find a shot of one covered in Renard’s blood, we don’t have a lot to go on.”

“Maybe we’re looking at this from the wrong angle? You know of any wesen that can knock out cameras, but not affect the rest of the electrical circuit?” Hank tapped his notebook with the pen.

“None. But there are a lot of wesen.”

“Well, let’s think of it this way. Say there isn’t a wesen that can do that. How would you shut off security cameras in the precinct?”

“You’d have to do it by computer, maybe. A virus? But you would need access to the security grid.” He snaps his fingers. “Which always has a guard. It’s a closed system, it can’t be hacked. Any work they do on it has to be monitored.”

They grab their coats, wincing as they step out from the darkened viewing room to the harsh lights of the precinct. They hand off pictures to an officer, who hurriedly sets about making copies as they head to the security room.

Wu stops them before they arrive. “Did you hear? Captain’s already escaped the hospital. The nurses are pissed, so don’t go over there. We’ve got his address, if you guys wanna send anything.”

“He’s home alone? Tell me somebody went with him.” Hank stares at him. Wu gives him a look back.

“No. we sent the Captain, who was beaten to an inch of his life, home after having spent ten hours in the hospital. We figured they did such a good job, they’d be happy to rest on their laurels.” He rolled his eyes. “There are two officers from Donovan’s precinct, another from twelfth, three plain clothes from ours, and whoever just ‘happens’ to take their lunch break in the same vicinity. Last time I checked, it practically looked like we were setting up a check point, but hadn’t decided if we were really committed to it yet. Any criminals in the area are probably changing their pants right now.”

“Any other people hanging around?” Nick asked curiously. He didn’t know enough about Captain Renard, or his network past the precinct. He must have people. Did they know, or even care, that he had been injured? How did he treat his underlings? Like his officers? Or like a royal?

“Couple a people, one didn’t stay around for long, the other took him home from the hospital. You know, you should proabably go check on him.”

“Yeah….hey, Wu, you know what goes on around here, right?”

Wu turned guarded. “Look, I know a lot, but there is no way I could have-“

“No, I know you couldn’t have foreseen this. Nobody could. But have you seen or heard of anyone messing around in the security room?” Nick asks earnestly.

“Well…there was a guy here a few days ago. Scheduled maintenance. It’s the same guy that comes every time. Mark Darrows. Has a place not to far from here.”

“He been having any trouble lately?” Hank asked, brow furrowing.

“No, not that I know of. Good guy, keeps to himself, doesn’t know the Beetles from the B52s, but nobody is perfect.”

“We need to talk to him. The cameras got shut off, and we think that it was an inside job.” Nick said.

“Let me grab my coat, I’ll take you to him.” 

^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*


	4. This terrible curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those that left comments, and kudosed and bookmarked, thank you so much! And to those that just read, Thank you as well!
> 
> This chapter contains a great deal of Sean!Whump! and I hope you don't get too upset. Trigger warnings for general horrible family members and mentions of possible non-con. This one is Sean-centric, and we will get back to our intrepid grimm heroes next chapter. I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Please feel free to comment.
> 
> \--Splotch

He feels…he feels….

Like he could kill someone. Anyone might do.

His woge keeps flickering, a physical representation of the rage he was feeling. The book in his hands was shaking lightly as he struggled to compose himself.

His mother had given him a few books when he escaped to the United States. One of which was his mother’s grimoire on ancient spells and curses. His mother was a beautiful, frightened woman who had only wanted the best for a broken son. He liked to think she would be proud of him now, having his own territory, his own place in the world. 

He hoped he could fix this before she got wind of it. He couldn’t bear the thought of shame in her eyes if she saw how low he had fallen. 

**Große Schwäche Fluch . The curse of Greatest Weakness**  
_‘For in this way, the victim of this seal shall feel their constitution waste away two days after inscribing. This will continue as the as the curse progresses. For Wesen, all wesen-related abilities will begin to fade. After the abilities have been entirely suppressed, the victim shall fall prey to a myriad of illnesses which shall sap the strength. Humans, possessing no wesen abilities, shall fall prey to illnesses first. The victim shall become weaker and weaker until such a time as the victim’s lungs refuse to function, resulting in a painful death. The only way to break the curse seal is to have an individual pre-emptively remove all control from the victim and exert complete dominance, typically by forceful intercourse.’_

He feels sick.

He feels violated.

He wants to throw this awful book as hard as he can, preferably through a window and out of his flat, but he can’t. Because he can’t afford to lose this valuable old book, one of the only things that can give him information on what the hell is going on. Because it was his mother’s, and he is loath to throw anything of hers away. Because someone would come up to the apartment and ask why he is breaking windows. There are a great deal more ‘because’ lining up, but in the end, the most important one is because he can’t afford anyone coming up and finding out exactly what he has gotten himself into. If people knew he was in this situation…

He shuts his eyes, and in a very controlled motion, closes the book and gently places it on the counter. It isn’t the book’s fault, and he’d do well to remember that. 

Sean Renard takes a moment, padding into the kitchen. He fills a glass with water. Drinks it. Then hurls the glass with all the strength he can muster at an offending wall. And regrets the searing pain across his torso, but grimly woges through it. It lessens with the woge, but he can’t use that forever. He won’t be able to use it in less than forty-eight hours.

At least the book had given him some perspective. This was no run-of-the-mill wesen. And barring the truly psychotic and sadistic random interloper, this had his family written all over it. Specifically…Yes, it had to be him. Cousin Siegfried was the only family member he knew of that would send this kind of message, knowing what he knew of Sean. Eric may have hatred and cruelty, but only Siegfried had this kind of depravity.

He tasted bile, and regretted throwing the glass, but didn’t trust himself to hold another. One broken glass was an accident. The half dozen that would follow once he got started was an entirely different issue.

Siegfried. Son of his father’s sister, a vile, petty woman who had made no illusions of wanting her royal bastard nephew in any capacity. He still remembered vividly that she had regularly called him ‘the whore’s son’ as simply as any other family might have referred to him as ‘my nephew’. But those were other nephews in other families, and he had learned long ago that he didn’t have a chance in hell of having something like that. And Siegfried…he took after his mother in the worst ways possible. 

Siegfried looked at him as if he was something less than human. For him, it was natural. He had been raised on the belief that Wesen were lesser creatures, that Royals were above all the masters and lords of their realms. To be followed without question as was their birthright. Sean was an aberration, a hybrid walking the thin line of humanity and Wesen. He had delighted in torturing him when they were boys, the bigger, older cousin driving Sean into his mother’s arms more often than not.

Weak, he had called Sean. Ugly monster. Beast. Bastard. Whoreson. Creature. Wesen. That last word so hatefully spat that as a young boy he had felt like it drove a knife into his skin. He would build up his defenses, but between his family and his dear cousin, those defenses would be ground to dust. After a while, it became less about building defenses and more about building impassiveness. If they couldn’t see him being hurt, then it was a victory. Though not really, was it? That just made them try harder. It was probably what caused the incident when he was sixteen, right before he escaped. Right before his mother got him out.

He was young, stupid. It was his own fault, falling for someone in view of his family, where they could see. He hadn’t deserved happiness, they had all but informed him of that. And when he did, that gave them permission to show him the error of his ways.

He was a servant in his Father’s house, a young man several years older than himself at sixteen, and the only person besides his mother that had dared to show him a bit of kindness. The other servants had ignored him at best, openly showed their disgust at worst. It had started so simply. Sean had a black eye, a gift from another, well-hated cousin, and the young man had asked him if he need ice. He had no idea how to react. The man introduced himself as Adam.

They talked. Adam made him smile, though he had no clue why. Later, he would attribute it to some misplaced relief, some hope that he somehow deserved that bit of normalcy. 

They met often. They became friends, and then, because he was a stupid, stupid boy, more than that. He had been clumsy and inexperienced and he allowed Adam to take him to bed, had enjoyed it. And the times after. Allowed Adam to take the lead, allowed him to possess him in the most intimate ways a teenage boy might know.

And then Adam told Eric. Who told Siegfried and the whole wretched lot of cousins and siblings. 

They had mocked him, had paraded his mistake in front of him. Congratulated Adam on his constitution in being able to stand touching such a vile creature. Paid him for his ‘physical and psychological trauma.’ Laughed at him, asking how he could have thought he would ever be a royal, if he would stoop to slumming with the help? He was weak. A real royal would have at least been the one in control.

The look in Siegfried’s eyes when he heard that Sean had been the one ‘in the female position’ as he had put it….he should have left then and there, just ran. But he was too ashamed to realize what he was seeing, barely managing to leave those jeering faces before his impassivity cracked.

Siegfried had arranged for a ‘gift’ to be sent to his room that night. 

He suddenly can’t breathe as his mind broaches on that memory and he promptly dives for the trash can, ignoring searing pain as licks through his torso and splinted arm. He wretches pitifully, emptying nothing from his stomach as his body tries in vain to rid itself physically of an emotional and psychological trauma.

When his body is finished its pathetic heaving, he tries to breathe through the agony, tears pricking at his eyes. He can’t break down. Not here, not now. He will not be weak. They will not see him break.

Except…

He has no choice now. Siegfried, and he knows it is him, has managed to place this awful sadistic curse on him, while in his own place, his own bastion of safety. Siegfried has taken his safety away. And now he has placed a curse on him that will either kill him by turning him into the weakling he had always been, or force him to live with the knowledge that he was only alive because he had been reduced to being a helpless victim, in a scenario that Siegfried will no doubt orchestrate. Another ‘gift’ from his dear, _considerate_ cousin. 

He sits down on the cold floor, merely because it is closer than trying to heave himself into a chair. He takes another shaky breath, ruthlessly forces down the urge to sob, because he is not sixteen. This is not a failed attempt at normalcy. This is not his Father’s house.

This is his house. This is his canton. And if Siegfried thinks that the shame and embarrassment this curse will bring on him will destroy him…he may be right. But he will make sure Siegfried comes down with him. He won’t give himself to whatever cruel fantasy Siegfried has concocted. 

He will make it his last act on this earth to make Siegfried pay for this.

 

**^**^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^

He read with glee as his little spies gave him reports from across the city. Apparently, his little cousin had gained a small following amongst the Wesen. Pathetic. They must have never seen a true royal, one that could command as his family did.

This little foray had two objectives. One, to show dear cousin Sean his place. Two, to secure the territory of Portland for his Mother. She had been so worried about the state of this worthless plot of land when she had heard that Sean had set up shop here. He, himself, would have been willing to just give Sean a little lesson in knowing his place. But he loved his mother, and knew the duties of his family and of royalty. The Wesen of this territory would need a firm royal hand to rule them, lest they turn to savagery. Sean was not meant to rule. Sean was a disease, that by blood they were forced to endure. 

But maybe not for long. It would depend on whether or not Sean accepted his gift, and the knowledge that came with it.

Siegfried folded the reports and leered at the little servant woman who obediently filled his glass. “Tell the pilot that I want a car. I want to see this city fall apart around him.”

“Yes, my lord.” The girl nodded and hurried away, mouselike. Terrified. He approved. 

This was how it should be. This is what Sean would come to understand.


	5. This land is mine!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, rl popped up. Thank you all for reading, kudosing, bookmarking, and commenting! I appreciate your support. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.
> 
> I don't write a whole lot of action, and I hope this sits well. Constructive criticism is always loved.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!  
> \--Splotch

The small townhouse is the picture of a normal home. The lawn is manicured. There’s a beat up Lincoln in the drive. A couple of the windows are covered in curtains. There’s some sort of dead Ivy on the porch. At least, he thinks it’s an ivy. It may be Hemlock for all he knows, and the fact that he considers that a valid option should be an indication of how strange his life has gotten since that pivotal visit from his Aunt.

Nick slides out of the squad car, closing the door behind him. Hank and Wu join him on the walk to the front door. 

“Hey, let me knock on the door. He might be more interested to talk if he sees a friendly face.” Wu pulls ahead, trotting up the steps.

Hank shoots him a look. “You wanna stick with Wu or go around back?”

“I’ll stay with Wu. Be careful.”

“You know it.” Hank disappeared around the corner of the townhouse.

He steps up behind Wu as the Sergeant knocks on the door. 

Nothing happens for a few seconds, and Wu knocks again. “Hey Mark! It’s Drew! You home?”

A sudden crash inside the building had Nick reaching for his sidearm. He and Wu shared a quick look. Wu gave him a quick nod. “Mark! If you don’t answer we’re coming in!”

Another crash and Nick pushed Wu to the side. He added his Grimm strength behind the kick to the door. It flew open and they entered, weapons drawn. Nick took point, Wu guarding his back.

The first few steps were clear until they reached what looked like a bathroom when the Manticore stepped out, fully woged and armed. One hand dragged the very limp body of a man that had most likely lived the last few moments of his life in terror.

“Holy shit…”He heard Wu whisper behind him. He didn’t dare look back at the other man, focusing entirely on the much too large gun in the wesen’s other hand. He and Wu had police issue glocks, and were severely outclassed.

He felt the next minute happen in slow motion. The manticore, a big brown haired monster with the most viscous black tip on its tail he had ever seen, swung the gun up, leveling it at his heart. He felt his arm coming up with the glock, ingrained training taking over, even though he knew he was outmatched. If he could just get a shot off before the other did-

-And he was knocked sideways as an arm wrapped around his middle and Wu pushed him bodily into the bathroom, just as the wesen pulled the trigger and sprayed the hall with bullets. The deadly projectiles barely missed the pair of them.

“Shit!” Wu yelled as ceramic began to rain down on them. “Shots fired-damn it! Send back up! We have a hostile gunman and two officers pinned down!” He continued to bark the address into the radio on his shoulder even as bullets ricocheted above their heads.

Nick rolled away from Wu, staying low to the ground. The guy had to run out of bullets, or would have to stop to see if they were dead. As soon as the big wesen showed its ugly face, he was prepared to put a bullet between its eyes. 

The spray of bullets stopped, and he heard the boards creak as something heavy walked toward them. He risked a glance back at Wu. The man was grimly taking cover around the corner of the shower, gun trained at the door. 

This was a bad place to make a last stand. No way out, only one way in currently guarded by a guy with an wutomtic rifle…this was a killbox, and both officers knew it.

The footsteps stopped just at the open door, barely out of sight. The sound of someone shifting an automatic rifle, however, was entirely recognizeable. Nick steeled himself.

A series of gunshots rang out, and suddenly Nick was so grateful that Hank decided to walk around back. The footsteps turned from the door and automatic fire answered back. Nick ducked down and made his way to the door, stealing a quick peek around the doorjamb. 

An angry, snarling manticore was facing away from him, holes across the clothing on its shoulders. He dicided the big wesen needed a few more added.

He took a quick aim and squeezed the trigger, landing a full clip in the center of its body mass. It roared, gunfire going wild. He ducked down, keeping himself as small a target as possible. The manticore turned and charged down the hall towards him. 

Shit! He should have saved a few bullets.

Just as the Manticore came into view, murder in its eyes, gunfire rang out simultaneously behind Nick and from down the hall. The wesen roared in pain, seemingly unable to decide which direction to swing the gun to. 

Sirens wailed, cutting through the air. The wesen snarled, but instead of sending a spray of bullets towards the two men cowering in the bathroom, it bolted down the hall and out the door. 

Nick let out a shaky breath he had been holding. That was too damn close.

“Everyone okay?” Hank yelled, unseen, from his position somewhere toward the back of the house.

“I’m good! Wu?” He looks back at Wu, who nods, but is visibly, but quietly, freaking out.

He frowned. Wu was generally level-headed, and while this was close, he shouldn’t be acting as if…

Oh. Well, shit.

“Wu? How you doing, sergeant?” Hank called out.

“I’m alright…just…did anybody else see that? What in the hell was that?”

“Run-of-the-mill crazy with a gun?” Hank tried, voice coming closer. He poked his head around the doorjamb, nearly colliding with Nick. Nick gave him a quick look, and his partner shrugged.

“Don’t bullshit me, detective. I have been bullshitting higher-ups as part of my job description for years.” Wu carefully holstered his weapon. “You two have been sneaking off together and whispering in corners for weeks. You know something about this, I know it. Out with it. What in the hell is going on?!”

Hank looked sideways at Nick. Nick gave him a quick nod. “We might as well, I can’t really explain away the Manticore that shot up the place.”

He turns back to Wu. “It’s a long story, and I can’t tell you here. Let’s get this out of the way, and I’ll tell you everything.”

^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The young man in front of her is blonde, well dressed, and entirely uncomfortable with being in her shop.

He also appears to be some sort of bird wesen, if the quick flicker of feathers across his face as he stutters through questions are of any indication.

“A-and the ink. Squid i-ink. Do you have any of tha-that?”

And appeared to be asking for ingredients that, if she didn’t know any better, might sound like they were being used for some sort of potion. She was uncertain she wanted to give any of the rarer ingredients to the young man, when he just as likely could kill himself playing with the arcane arts.

“I’m sorry, I don’t keep that in stock. Squid ink can be difficult to keep fresh if you don’t have a fresh source. I’m not a fan of them, myself.” Rosalee gave him her best smile.

“N-not a fan of s-squid?” The man cocked his head at her, birdlike.

“Not really. They aren’t my favorite creatures.”

“I s-see. B-but this is im-important. If you s-sold s-some, could you tell me w-who? M-maybe they didn’t use it-it all. O-or m-maybe you-ou could call them.” The man looked at her earnestly.

“I…can’t give out customer information. I can tell you that my only transaction with squid ink was over a year ago.” A niggling feeling of discomfort began in the back of her mind. 

Monroe, bless him, must have felt it, because he came out of the back and stood next to her at the counter. “Hey! How are we doing today?”

“G-g-good.” The man said haltingly, taking in Monroe’s height and size. He turned back to her. “S-sorry to hear about t-that. Wh-ere can I go?”

“There’s a curio shop on the other side of town. I know the owner stocks some oddities there. I’ll give you the address.” She quickly wrote it down, giving it to the man with a slightly forced smile.

The man nodded, a jerky aborted motion before he left the store hurriedly.

A few seconds passed. The Monroe huffed. “Well that was weird.”

“Don’t I know it. He was really looking for that ink.”

“What do you use it for?” Moroe ansked quizzically. She shrugged.

“Writing, mostly. Some spells require it, but fresh…I’d have to look it up. Maybe I should call Nick?”

“Nah, He’s probably busy. I’d only call him if it was important.”

^**^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^

“Yes…yes…I see. Take down this number, inform Nico of your findings. I haven’t heard from Ferdi yet, if he contacts you, let me know. He was checking out a spice shop…yes, that one. Inform me of anything else, and if you come across anything that looks remotely hostile, back off. I will have no heroes in this. If there is bloodshed, let Nico’s people take care of it. It’s almost tax season and I can’t afford to lose any of you.” He pauses as the other voice on the line complains. “No, I don’t think this qualifies as overtime. This qualifies as part of the reparations for that thing that you are both still in trouble for. Yes, that one. Do this well, and I’ll almost consider you both forgiven. Until then, no more complaining. I’m headed back to the offices. After that, I will be with the client. You know my numbers.”

He ends the phone call and tucks the slim case back into his coat. He fastidiously folds his empty sandwich wrapper and tosses it into a nearby trashcan. Then he walks, purposefully leaning heavily on his injured leg, causing the limp to become more pronounced. He doesn’t have a direction in mind. What he does have are a long line of highly reflective shop windows, where the odd stumble and feigned weakness give him glances of the pair of men following him. They move like wesen. Likely predators, with how they gaze enraptured every time he fakes an unsteady step. Not particularly subtle. They were overconfident. 

He could work with that.

Sal was not a strong man. He was not a fighter. But he was a fuchsbau, with a quick, cunning mind. And a financial contract with several of the store owners in the area, who knew him well enough to catch on to his act. He saw several of them disappear quietly to make phone calls, while others drifted out of the stores to take up positions on the street. They watched the men with a quiet intensity that had the two not been so focused on their ‘injured’ fuchsbau prey, they may have escaped.

As it is, Drangzorn don’t like trespassers.

^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*


	6. Thorn in my side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for late update, rl was in the way. Hope you all enjoy!

Wu is worryingly silent as they drive away from the coffee shop where they had quietly taken lunch. Where Nick and Hank had filled the sergeant in on everything they possibly could in an attempt to bring him up to speed. 

Nick had expected more, and also felt bad for it. He had expected Wu to tell him he was crazy, to deny everything, but he had just taken it in, barely touching his food. It wasn’t like the sergeant, whose usual reaction was to crack jokes, or do anything to diffuse tension.

He hoped it was just because it was a lot to take in. Wu had just been attacked by a manticore. And Hank had taken awhile to get used to it too. It just wasn’t every day that you got informed that the world was full of real monsters from myths and that the people you worked with were Monster profilers, or in the Captain’s case, actual monsters.

While he worried over Wu, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, frowned at Monroe’s number as it flashed up at him. 

He sighed internally. It would be about the time for the situation to get worse. He answered.

“Burkhardt.”

_“Nick! Nick, I think we have a little situation. I mean, it might be a big situation, but I’m not sure how big of a deal it is, but if it is, it is a big deal-“_

“Slow down! What’s going on?” Hank and Wu look up at him over their food.

_“Some guy, some bird wesen came into the shop, asking for all these weird ingredients. He was making Rosalee uncomfortable, so I came over, and he left, but Rosalee looked up the ingredients he was asking for in her books! Dude. He was making some sort of curse. And not like, ‘you’re hens will lay rotten eggs’ kinda curse. These are bad curses. These are ‘you will live in interesting times’ kinda curses. These-“_

“Whoa, whoa. Did you get a look at the guy? And what evidence do you have that he was doing something wrong? I can’t arrest somebody on suspicions of cursing people.”

Hank’s fork froze halfway to his mouth, and he arched an eyebrow.

_“Blonde guy, tall, has some sort of stutter. I’m tracking him now, on the corner of Bakers and Eighteenth. Rosalee is freaking out. You know how she is.”_

“She wouldn’t be upset if there wasn’t a reason.” Nick guessed, sinking feeling in his stomach.

_“He kept on asking for fresh squid ink. She said that’s only needed for the really bad stuff.”_

He quickly weighed the pros and cons of going to see Monroe. There were currently dozens of cops on the Captain’s case, and now on the Mark Darrows case, which they had unceremoniously barred from participating in. And if that wasn’t enough, the timing was convenient enough that it made him suspicious. A suspicious man possibly making curses around the time that the Captain gets laid low by persons unknown? That was worth looking into. 

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.” Nick disconnected the call before Monroe could start in on another rant. 

“Where we going?” Hank asked innocently.

“I am going to see what’s going on with Monroe and somebody that may or may not be casting curses that are bad enough to make shopkeepers worried.”

“Great. Where are we going?”

He hesitates, not knowing what to say. Does he send them back to the precinct? Does he try to-

“Yeah. Where are we going?” Wu interrupts his thoughts, no longer dissecting his lunch. When Hank shoots him a look, his jaw sets as he looks at them both. “You can try to leave me out. It won’t end well for you. I can make your lives a living hell, or you can let me come with you.”

Nick doesn’t know if he’s relieved or not, hearing that. Hank makes a face, then shrugs.

“Guess all three of us are going. Where we going?”

^**^**^*^^**^^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^

He listens to the calm, clipped voice on the other end of the call detail the incident at the shopping center downtown. No survivors. Drangzorn could be particularly viscous when their homes and families were threatened. Thorne was fine, safely on his way back to his office. A Manticore had been sighted not far from the precinct, had shot up a house, and disappeared before being apprehended. Three officers involved. No casualties except the homeowner. There were a rash of incidents across the city involving unknown wesen and banished wesen brazenly testing defenses. So far, Nico’s employees and the police wesen had successfully deterred them.

Sean hangs up at the end of the call and rubs a hand across his face, strain settling around his shoulders. This day was getting worse and worse.

He had stepped back from the situation and looked at it again, pulling apart the problem from all angles. The issue with curses was that they were highly specific, which could be bad for the caster. It was why he never messed with them. But on occasion, they could be circumvented with loopholes. This curse was no different, though the resolution that he happened on was perhaps as bad as the curse itself. A loss of control and domination. His cousin would most likely engineer a scenario where Sean would consent to whatever beast that he had in mind. But if he preemptively found someone else, then his cousin would be robbed of whatever perverse pleasure he might gain. He would know, of course, what Sean had done, possibly find glee in what he made Sean do. 

But Sean’s submission would be of his own doing, with someone of his own choice.

If he could find someone.

The first to jump to his thoughts would be the man whose life he had already ruined, and he couldn’t do that. He would leave Nick out of this. Nick was still trying to fix his relationship with Juliette, and he didn’t even know if the Grimm would even accept.

So not him. Nico was married, and extremely loyal to his wife in every way. Thorne would probably look at him quizzically, and leave as soon as his back was turned. There were several Hexenbeists that might do, but the hexen were often treacherous, and his last experience with one had left a nasty taste in his mouth.

He realizes with a sinking feeling that there are very few he would consider for this task. He had to think about it, about the lasting ramifications for both parties. There was no time.

But he would be damned if he let Siegfried have this.

^*^*^**^*^^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Monroe is twitchily looking from a large multistory office building to Nick as the three of them walked up.

“Nick! Hey! Uh, who’s your friend?” He nods to Wu.

“Drew Wu, I’m a sergeant. I work with Nick.”

Monroe shook his hand, still uncertainly trying to catch Nick’s eye to figure out how much to reveal. Seeing this, Wu provided assurance.   
“Nick says that somebody might be casting some bad juju. I was attacked by a manticore today.”

“I…what? Nick?”

“Don’t ask.” Nick gave him a long-suffering look. “What’s up?”

“The guy went over into that building over there.” Monroe gestured to the offices. “Tall, kinda gawky blonde. So?” He spreads his hands out. “What’s the plan?”

Nick shrugged. “We go in, ask if he’s there, so if we can talk to him.”

Monroe stared at him. “Really? Don’t you need like, a warrant?”

“For a curse?” Nick mirrored Monroe’s gesture. “The best we can hope for is for him to speak with us freely. At the very least, we can shake the tree, see if somebody starts spilling information.”

A few seconds more of arguing and the four of them walked through the main doors. Nick immediately honed in on the aging security guard by the door, barely awake on his feet. Cameras sat in obvious spots, but he managed to spot a couple hidden behind fake office plants.

Behind a wide desk sat a little woman with impressive assets (and Juliette would roll her eyes at this), whose nameplate identified her as ‘Bernice’. She seemed a bit young for the name, which Hank informed her of as he leaned in to sweet talk her.

She obviously didn’t share his opinion, and the temperature seemed to drop to near freezing. 

“I’m sorry, is there a reason you gentleman are here?” Bernice’s smile was decidedly fixed.

“Ah…yes, we were in the area, you know, patrols, keeping the peace, and we saw somebody come into these offices we’d like to talk to. You might have seen him, tall, blonde…?” Hank tried again, giving her his best smile.

“I can’t say I did.”

“…You know, this is a big place. What exactly goes on here?” Hank tried again. Nick was torn between smiling at how badly Hank was striking out and letting his impatience show.

“Did you happen to see the sign on the way in?” Bernice enunciated each word like she was talking to a five year old. “I thought the police were at least required to learn how to read before they gave you a gun.”

Hank’s jaw dropped. When he recovered enough to retort, the phone rang and the brunette woman brought up her hand up, cutting him off in a silencing gesture.

“Front desk.” She tilted her head. “Are you sure? I can have them removed…No? Alright. If you wish.”

She primly put the phone down. “Take the elevator to your left. The senior partner wishes to speak with you.”

Nick stared at her. “The senior partner?”

“Yes. Mr. Thorne is on the top floor. Try not to piss him off.” She looked at Hank. “You should probably stay quiet.”

Hank’s jaw dropped again, and had to be pulled away from the desk by Nick, fuming. Wu was just behind them, snickering with Monroe. 

The security guard that had been slipping ever closer to catatonic stupor roused himself enough to direct them to the elevator. Nick felt a bit adrift as the group was ushered to the doors.

Nick was the first to step into the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor. The others filed in barely fitting in the small elevator. As the door closed, Nick wondered how likely an attack would be at this point. Who was this ‘Mr. Thorne?’

The floors ticked away quickly, with just a quiet comment from Monroe about a possible trap.

Nick had winced at the comment, but said nothing. The four of them could probably take on whatever was beyond those elevator doors.

A loud ding startled him, and the doors opened, revealing a young man in expensive clothes. The man’s blonde hair was slicked back, bright blue eyes watching them closely.

“Hey!” Monroe pointed at the man. “You were at the shop!”

“Y-yes. Mr. Tho-orne is waiting. This way.” The man turned on his heel and walked away. 

Nick stared after him for a moment before following. This was bordering on the mysterious and slightly creepy.

Dozens of well-dressed people weaved between desks and computer stations, some answering phones while other pored over files and stacks of papers. The crowd parted almost unconsciously around the blonde as he forged through.

He led them to a pair of double doors that he politely rapped his knuckles on. 

“Come in.”

Their guide opened the door and ushered them into a conference room. It was empty except for a man in his late thirties focused on a tablet. He barely glanced up before waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

The blonde nodded and turned to leave. Nick moved to block him, not wanting to let the only curse suspect walk out the door.

“Let him go, Mr. Grimm.” The dark haired man seated at the table barely looked toward them. “He was at the spice shops at my behest. Any questions you have, will be answered by me.”

The blonde escaped out the door.

The black haired man finished whatever he was doing on the tablet, and set it down with a careful hand before raising his head to take in Nick’s group.

“My name is Salazar Thorne. I work for Prince Renard.”


	7. Not another one...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, good readers-I have just started a job where online capability is spotty at best, but I will gamely try to update as much as possible. thank you all for your continued support, comments, interest, and so forth!
> 
> \--Splotch

**^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^^*^**^*^*^*^

Nick doesn’t know what to say. Things are happening a little fast, and what do you say to a man that serves a Prince, who also happens to be your boss? And-

“Please sit.” The man (Thorne) says smoothly, gesturing to the chairs. When none of them made a move to the chairs, he raised an eyebrow, then rose from his seat. “I am Prince Renard’s financial counsel, and currently I am acting as his legal counsel until this mess is cleared up. I-“

“Wait, you’re a lawyer?” Hank interrupted.

The man huffed a bit. “No. I am an accountant who is, unfortunately, forced to take on legal duties as well.”

“You’re wesen?” Nick asked.

“Fuchsbau.” Monroe supplied behind him.

“…You must be the blutbaden that Ferdinand spoke of. A pleasure, I’m sure.” His tone didn’t sound pleased.

“Fuchsbau?” Wu looked at him quizzically.

“Fox.” Thorne broke back in. “And if you all are quite done, I’d like to speak to you about what has been happening around the city.”

Wu snapped his fingers. “I remember you now! You were around Renard when he got back to his apartment.”

“Do you know what happened to Renard?” Nick demanded.

“…Is he someone you are worried about?” Thorne looked at him steadily. “From what I understand, your relationship is strained.”

Nick glared at him. “He’s a good Captain.”

“…Is that all, I wonder? You are a Grimm, after all. Grimms don’t have the best reputations where wesen are concerned.”

“What are you implying?” Nick stared at the shorter man in disbelief. Surely he didn’t think he would have done that to Renard?

“I am implying that your relationship with Prince Renard is one of convenience. You would not harm, nor help Renard unless that is something parallel to your own needs. Not that this is an issue, at least not now, while we have a much greater issue to deal with.” Thorne looked him right in the eye. “We all may have something to lose. Prince Siegfried, linked to the family Renard, has been stirring up trouble in Portland for the last day or so. He is testing defenses and instigating aggressive wesen to attack the borders.”

“Never heard of him.”

“I imagine not.” The way Thorne said that made him uncomfortable. Why? Was it because he would have learned something like that from Renard?

“Is he the guy who sent out the Manticore?” Wu asked. 

“I cannot be sure, but it is very likely. We only know that Siegfried is behind the attacks, not where he is or how many he has brought with him. What we do know is that he is behind the attack on Prince Renard. He must be dealt with quickly, before he gains a true foothold.” 

“Quickly and quietly, hunh?” Hank asks sardonically.

“No.”

“Come again?”

“There is no quiet in this.” Thorne said to Hank, while looking straight at Nick. “You are not familiar with wesen and royal politics. This is an act of malice, a precursor to war. Either way this is handled, we could stand to lose a great deal. If Prince Renard is defeated, he stands to lose this territory, which has become a safe haven for hundreds, even thousands of wesen. Whatever freedoms they had, from who to befriend to who to love, “He glanced at Monroe pointedly, “would be forfeit. If he wins, it could be worse. We are a fledgling community, a small territory. If he wins, the royals must face the wesen in their own territory. He wins in the wrong way, we stand to see a full scale invasion. The royals cannot afford a bastard son to succeed against a beloved one. In any case, this will make noise. Possibly across several oceans.”

“So what exactly do we do?” Monroe asks after a moment of silence.

“You pick the evil you can live with. I, for one, refuse to live under another royal’s rule. They are sadistic, hate filled creatures who have no business ruling the masses. And we accept the consequences of that choice.”

“…what do we need to do to stop him?” Nick asks finally.

“I can give you contact information of some people to call. They need all the help they can get, and I know one would probably love to get her hands on any royal she could.” He write a number down and hands it to Wu. “She outranks you, I think, but don’t hold it against her.”

He writes down another number and hands it to Hank. “I don’t like this man, but he is incredibly efficient. He would welcome any aid you all can offer.”

“I…I’m not sure, is that a compliment, or…”

“Take it as you will. It is the truth.” Thorne looked away from Hank to Nick. “These numbers should get you started.”

Nick opens his mouth to ask something important, but doesn’t get a chance as the door swings open behind him, forcing Monroe to bump into him to avoid it. A burly Asian man walks past, no apology as he rounds the table.

He plucks up the tablet Thorne had been using, taps the screen for a brief second, then showing the image to Thorne. After studying the image for a moment, Thorne purses his lips in disapproval. “How many?”

“Last count was six, several more may be inbound. Already contacted Nico, they aren’t his. He’s got a few people inbound, but won’t be here for another half hour. Zero and Johnboy are already here on the second floor. They wanna know your play.”

“What’s going on?” Hank asked, looking from one man to the other. They ignored him.

“…Evacuate the interns and the associates. Use the tunnels that Kentry carpentry put in the last time they redid the lobby -that should bring them out a few blocks downtown. Tell Bernice and Harry to close down the front in five minutes or as soon as our friends make an aggressive move. Bring the junior partners to me.” Thorne looked up at the four of them. “And send the Grimm and his friends out with the interns.”

“Like hell.” Nick said, crossing his arms. “Not until I know what’s going on.”

The burly man ignored Nick, looking at Thorne. “I don’t have time to make them agree. If they’re still here after the evacuation, I’ll force them out then.”

Thorne nodded, still frowning at the tablet.

The other man left, ignoring sputtered questions.

“What the hell is going on?” Nick demanded, glaring at Thorne.

“Invasion. More of my friends from earlier. Or friends of yours. Most likely friends of Prince Renard. Not to worry, this would not be the first time.” Thorne frowned a little deeper. “Last time we lost the building.”

Nick felt his jaw drop a little and then Monroe was shoved into him again as the stuttering blonde and dark skinned woman, also expensively dressed, walked into the room.

“The evacuation is starting. Nico’s men, Zero and Johnboy, are taking up positions near the elevators on the second floor. As soon as Bernice and Harry close up the front they are ready to extract them and take them out the tunnels.” The woman said.

“W-What do you want to do i-if they come in?”

“Keep them occupied until the evacuation is over. Do we still have some of those leftovers from the last hostile takeover attempt?” Thorne asked.

A flicker of white and black came over the woman’s face along with a toothy grin. “Will you be staying inside the building this time?”

“Absolutely not. I learned my lesson very well.”

“If we set them off, the building may be uninhabitable for awhile.”

“Do we have all of our backups?” Thorne raised a brow.

“All but the last hour, but we can easily redo that work.”

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Nick asked exasperatedly.

A loud beep from the tablet caused Thorne to look down. “I’m afraid not. Our timetable has moved forward. You two, set them up. Mr. Grimm, I would like to ask you, as a personal favor, to escort my staff through the tunnels. If we don’t manage to turn this force away, those people are not fighters. They will die.”

“You all don’t look like fighters either.” Hank pointed out.

“You would be right. But we will be escorted out by Nico’s men and my head of security. And we don’t play the hero. As soon as we are done setting up our deterrent, we will be right behind you.”

Thorne fitted the tablet under his arm, and walked around the table.

Limped.

Nick was torn between telling him that he wouldn’t leave and feeling like he would just be in the way if he stayed. The way Thorne moved and acted, as if an invading force about to take over his place of business was an inconvenience rather than something to panic over…did all of Renard’s men act that way? Was it normal to fight like this all the time?

He might need to talk to Renard. 

In the end, the decision is made for him as Thorne limps out of the room on the heels of his subordinates. When Nick steps out, a paltry few staff members are gathering up things, personal items from desks and packing them away with startling efficiency. When he’s about to ask if there’s anything he can do, one of the female staff just has them follow her as she falls behind the line the departing staff makes. As they orderly troop through the hall and towards a tiny door fit for a broom closet, they pass the female junior partner setting up what appears to be some sort of thermos with a radio transmitter attached.

Surely they wouldn’t blow up the building. They knew they were cops! But Thorne had said they lost the other building. 

A call from the woman he had been following, broke him out of his musings, He stepped through the door, prepared to smush behind her, but walked right past the brooms into a stairwell. He blinked as the lights on the wall illuminated the stairs enough to see the woman he had been following hustle down.

“This is so weird.” Hank muttered behind him. “Please don’t let them blow up this building, evil royal wesen or no.”

Nick fervently agreed with him as he went down the stairs, inching by the narrow curve as they descended another flight, lower, lower, until they were past the ground floor.

“Think they got permits for this?” Wu wondered aloud.

“Y-yes. But not f-or the next block.” A voice called haltingly from behind as the blonde junior partner (Ferdinand?) came up behind Monroe, who let out a manly squeak.

He was also wearing a gas mask around his neck. 

“W-we should hurry. It’ll happen soon.”

“What will happen?” Hank asked very slowly, having seen the mask as well. “What did you do?”

“N-nothing bad. Mostly. It will s-smell really bad though, if we don-don’t hurry.”

“Ferdi, move it man! We gotta go!” 

Ferdi glanced behind then shooed them forward. “How mu-much time?”

“Not sure.” The large Hispanic man came out of the curve of the tunnel, huffing behind the blonde. “Zero got in first with Berni and Harry, and Tracey and Shen are with the boss fox. They were getting the last bomb set up before I left. I just hope they get out okay. That stuff is nasty. Nico wants to know what you put in ‘em.”

“You set up bombs?!” Monroe asked, panic evident in his voice.

“Worse.”

A loud bang from somewhere behind and above them startled them all. They froze for a moment.

“What are we talking about?” Hank whirled around. “dirty bombs? Biowarfare?”

“…S-Stink bombs. V-ery foul.” More tinny sounding bangs sounded off.

“Last person that was nearby one that got set off couldn’t eat for days. Debilitated. Non-lethal though.”

“W-we think.”

The Hispanic turned to stare at Ferdi. The man shrugged. “W-we haven’t r-r-really tested. No-nobody’s die-d yet.”

“You may have to revise that!” A feminine muffled voice from further back down the tunnel called. “One of them was pretty close! And so are you! Get moving!”

Ferdi jerked on his mask as the Hispanic man plowed forward, forcing Nick and the rest to move through the narrow tunnel.

A few seconds later, a smell like rotting sewage and sulfur began to faintly waft through the air. 

They traveled for what must have been a few blocks, but felt like a few miles, in the end having to stuff clothing against noses to avoid the noxious smell. A few glorious steps later, a set of stairs leading upwards to a door that was held open by the same blonde that had pulled them down the tunnel came into view. She had a handkerchief to her nose as she waved them up. “Hurry!”

They dove up the steps, heaving in lungfuls of fresh air. Nick immediately recognized a coffee shop he had passed on the road on the way in. Sirens were sounding in the distance as fire trucks started their approach.

A gagging sound behind him made him look over his shoulder as the female junior partner heaved herself out of the tunnel, shedding her mask and jacket in an effort to escape the stench.

He heard her mutter about how her own smell wasn’t usually that bad and he suddenly remembers that flash of black and white fur.

A minute or two passed and two more men came out of the tunnel, one hobbling and leaning slightly on the more muscular man. They two began shedding coats and slamming the doors to the tunnel closed, cutting off the stench from the underground.

Thorne pulled off his mask, revealing a face slightly gray, but mostly unemotional. His burly counterpart, who had an arm at his elbow was covering his mouth and looking green.

A second later he detached himself from Thorne’s elbow to throw up in the bushes. Thorne took in a deep breath of air, and let it out slowly. Then he cocked his head to the side. 

“We may have lost that building as well.”

*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*

When Nico arrived on the scene at an unacceptable forty-five minutes after the call, he is not surprised to see that Thorne has taken the situation into his own hands. The slightly green fog hovering within the glass of the top floor is slowly escaping, noxious smell blanketing the block as nearby businesses stood empty and the workers goggled from farther away.

Most likely some of Thorne’s staff had called them, warning them away. Fire crews were still trying to evacuate the few interlopers left inside the main building.

None of them belonged to Thorne. He was sure to have evacuated them before setting off the bombs. He was like that, foolishly stepping in to protect his people without considering that his employees could do a better job. He was too sentimental, too unwilling to let them get into harm’s way. Nico had tried to tell him that a dozen times, tell him that he should leave the jobs to those physically able to do so without being a liability. Perhaps not in those words. Thorne may be physically unable to best him, but he had no intention of getting into a true pissing contest with him. Thorne did things like make buildings uninhabitable by using his junior partner’s natural defenses, and had been suspected of ruining people’s finances in a fit of pique. 

He saw a fireman approach him and nodded to her. 

“These are all the ones that we got out. No casualties, but they’re hurting. We gotta bring some of them in.”

“Leave me a couple of the ones that are better off. My people are coming with an ambulance, load them up and we’ll deal with them.” Hopefully they’d be more talkative than the last two that had followed Thorne.

That had been messy. Renard had not been pleased.

She nodded, turning to return to her group. Many were wesen, but a few human. Humans in the know, because you couldn’t live alongside wesen that could walk through fire and rescue children and not know.

Humans were an adaptable lot, he noted. Amazing that a hundred years ago, the very knowledge of a wesen would incite the mob, yet here, more than anywhere in the world, were humans that knew and embraced wesen. Not many. But enough. 

At least for now, while the rival wesen were in control and these incursions were being dealt with. If they broke free, the situation may be very different.

But he had a personal hope that they would not.


	8. Chapter 8

Wu thumbed the piece of paper in his hand and stared at his phone.

He had, without a doubt, been Through Some Shit.

Thorne had somehow disappeared with his junior partners in the busy evac of the attorney firm inhabitants. He had not, Wu noticed, made any mention of curses, and they had been interrupted before Nick and his friend Monroe could ask him anything about the shop.

Nick had obviously figured that out too, if his huffing and stomping around was anything to go by. Any attempt the detective made to talk with the rapidly disappearing employees was either ignored or yielded no workable information.

“Get moving! I don’t want to see you loiterers on the street! You get a free day off and we will call you when we start back up! You work double hard to get this delay under control, so you enjoy the lull while it lasts!”

Wu looked around to see the front receptionist, Bernice, shouting out orders to the stragglers. They quickly left, darting down streets and alleys until she and the ever-sleepy security guard (Harry?) were the only ones left.

She caught him looking at her. “What do you want? Take a picture.”

“I would, but I’d probably have to book you to get a good one.”

“Cute. What’s your problem, Five-O?” She glared at him.

“Are you a wesen?” He rolls the last word around, still unfamiliar on his tongue.

“What if I am? What, you can’t tell?” She challenged.

“…no, not really. I just figured out there are wesen today. I got shot at by a Manticore, I just met a fuuks…a fooks….”

“A fuchsbau? Wait…did you just say you found out today?” Her entire demeanor changed to one of sympathy.

“Yes?” Wu looked at her a bit guardedly. Sudden changes in behavior rarely signaled good things.

“Oh. I’m sorry. It can be hard. It was for me too. I…well, I’m not a wesen. The partners are. A lot of the employees are, but a lot of us are just human too. It was weird. And a little frightening. But…you know, they’re just people. And a lot of them…they’re really just good people surviving like the rest. It’s just when these assholes,” her voice suddenly hardened, and the snarling, challenging woman was back, “come in here and try to bust up the place, well, then we have to turn around and hit them back.”

“Is that what that was?” Nick asked from behind her. “Because that looked a little extreme.”

“Yes, well,” a sickly sweet tone came into her voice, “sometimes when someone tries to instigate a hostile takeover of your workplace, it has to be extreme. It encourages people not to do it again. It certainly wouldn’t have been the worst thing that could have happened. Now, if you excuse me, I’m leaving.” She shoots Wu a sympathetic look. “Call the number he gave you.”

She walks right past Hank and Monroe and sets down an alley, Harry the guard trailing leisurely behind.

He stares after her a bit, and wonders idly if he’ll see her again. Better not. She had some sharp teeth, and apparently she wasn’t some mythical creature.

He pulls out his phone and dials the number, despite the look Nick gives him.

It rings a couple of times before a quasi-familiar voice come on the line. His mouth falls open in surprise.

_“If this is a telemarketer or a scam, I have access to police wiretaps, hacking programs, and some of the best prosecutors in Portland, and I will sic them all on you. If this has anything to do with any of the cases I’m working, spit it out and you’d better not be wasting my time.”_

The silence holds for moment before he manages to blurt out “Captain Donovan?!”

Both Hank and whipped their heads around at the name.

_“Who is this?!”_

“Sergeant Drew Wu, Ma’am, from Captain Ren-“

_“I know what precinct you come from. What the hell do you want?”_

“…I, uh, was given this number by a man named Thorne.”

_“….Jesus. Alright, where are you? Is Thorne alright? I heard there was a problem at his building.”_

“Thorne’s fine. He, uh, disappeared. He gave me this number before the incident, asked me to call you to try and lend a hand.”

_“Well, I appreciate that. God knows I could use the help. I’ll meet you. Where are you?”_

He rattles off the address and is unceremoniously hung up on. He stares at the phone a bit in disbelief.

Captain Donovan was a wesen?!

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*

She switches the phone off and returns to the meeting to cite a family emergency. 

Unfortunately, the affairs of a human city do not halt because of the madness of wesen politics. Budget meetings and the soothing of political feathers (metaphorical) were necessary and just a part of the job. The fact was, the beating and near murder of a Police Captain was something that needed to be addressed and there were barely enough captains present for her to wiggle out of this meeting. She suffers a few ugly looks from politicians that may or may not be disgusted at her leaving because of Renard or because they didn’t like a captive audience to escape.

She really didn’t care. Her mother was apparently now dying. Terrible thing. Politicians sympathize. A few captains arch eyebrows. She leaves.

It was a convenient excuse, Mother had been dead for years. It wasn’t as if she was going to argue.

She hurries away from the meeting, hops in her own vehicle and sped off, plugging in her secondary Bluetooth (the one Drew Wu had called was her emergency line) and listening to messages. A few from Nico detailing enemy wesen movements. A few from her precinct. One from Thorne, suggesting that she avoid his current office with the same zeal as his old one.

Gods damn that man. He was a sarcastic little bastard.

She was going to miss him if he ever left. 

But that was the possible future, and she had to deal with a greatly irritating present. 

^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The squad car rolls up, and out steps the most imposing woman Nick has ever felt. 

He doesn’t know if his Grimm senses were going into overdrive because of adrenaline, or if it was because he know Donovan’s reputation. There were a few betting pools in the department, and currently Donovan was in the lead of ‘Which Captain would be arrested for beating a politician’, and ‘Which Captain is responsible for the Mayor instituting extra sensitivity training’.

Donovan had risen through the ranks with no political savvy besides brutal honesty. It won her the respect of cops and the constant bewilderment of politicians. 

She also stood a respectable 5’10” that was heightened by her boot heel. She wore her dress uniform and looked like the poster child police departments wanted for their female recruitment-

“You got something to say, Grimm?” She barked, startling him out of his thoughts. He glared back at her, Grimm hackles raising at her tone.

He forced himself to calm. “Sorry. We haven’t met before. I’m Nick-“

“I’m aware of what and who you are.” She crosses her arms, fabric hiking up a bit on a uniform sleeve. A dark mark is on her wrist and he focuses in on it. 

“So Thorne had you call me, hunh?” She continues, ignoring His scrutiny of her wrist. “I hope he know what he’s doing. I can use all the help I can get. I-“

“You’re Verrat!” Nick snaps out suddenly, finally recognizing part of the marred mark.

“…I was Verrat. Now I’m not.” She fixes him with a glare. “You got a problem with that? Take it up with your precious Renard. He shelters you enough.”

“Renard doesn’t shelter me!” He snapped back.

“Really?” She throws her hair back over her shoulder. “How many of his inner circle did you meet before this shit of a cousin of his blew into town? I bet none.”

“Wait, don’t you work for Renard? Don’t Verrat do that, work for royals….Hoookay, forget I said anything…” Hank stepped back, hands up in surrender as the woman cast a withering look at him.

“I don’t work for any Royal. I tolerate Renard because he isn’t a total asshole. I help out when it suits my interests. It just so happens that when, and if, we work together we usually want the same thing.”

“Which is?” Nick asked, still glaring.

“To protect our home from Assholes like Siegfried and the rest of Renard’s fucked up family.” She leans in, her few inches giving her an imposing stature as she woges right in front of him, Hundjager fur rippling and canines growing. “Don’t make me add you to that list.”

“Hoookaaay….Before this turns into a downright epic beatdown, can we all agree that we all want a piece of this Siegfried guy? And that fighting amongst ourselves isn’t gonna help?” Hank tried to put an arm between them and separate them. Donovan turned away slightly, woge receding. 

Nick was also backing away. His anger was boiling though.

Why hadn’t Renard told him about these people? 

No, he knew the answer. He and Renard hadn’t really been talking. The thing with Juliette…It had been awful. But now there were so many question that needed answers. 

He needed to see Renard.

“-And we will do what we can to help. I also have this number too.” He realizes Hank had been speaking to the wesen Captain.

“That’s Nico’s number. I’d say I’m surprised he gave that to you, but Sal is a big picture guy. I can use your help right now. You’ll meet him soon enough, he coordinates with me.”

“You all go. I have to take care of something.” Nick cuts in. Donovan narrows her eyes at him, but says nothing.

“Grimm business? Need me along?” Monroe asks uncertainly. 

“No. I’m going to see Renard.” Nick nods to the other detectives. “I’ll see you all later.”

He turns and begins to walk in the direction of where he’s parked the car. The others will ride with Donovan. 

He needs answers.

^*^**^^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I would like to thank you all again for reviewing, reading, bookmarking, kudosing, and most certainly commenting. In my current state of being, internet is somewhat scarce, and I am having difficulties loading new chapters. But this one came fast, and so I have posted! I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> As a special aside, would anyone like to read the oc dossiers I have been creating for Nico, Donovan, and Thorne (and one more?)? I can attach them after the chapters.

Thorne studies a notebook written in Ferdi’s tight, neat handwriting. He frowns at the list of shops selling fresh squid ink, notes the carefully written accounts of wesen movements, no doubt supplied by Nico’s men. They loved talking to Ferdi, but didn’t realize why yet. Sooner or later, that cat would be out of the bag, but for now he reaped the benefits.

It was really too bad the man he was about to call had already figured it out and banned Ferdinand from any of their meetings. 

He ran his fingers through his hair tiredly. 

He had no doubt that Nico and Donovan would clear out this menace. That was by no means an issue. It was what happened after that worried him. Renard hadn’t moved from his apartment, either waiting for something or licking his wounds. He certainly hoped Renard made an appearance soon, the public was generally worried about royals and if he didn’t make a show of force against this interloper, his base of power would be lessened. And that, in turn, just invited more of these incidences.

He had a feeling that maybe he couldn’t help the Prince with this. But he could do other things. 

He pulls out his phone and speed dials the number he wants.

It rings for a moment before a voice answers. The clipped voice on the end of the line is irritated, but interested. He doesn’t get a call from this number often.

“Benny, how would you like to betray Prince Renard?” He asks, twirling his pen.

The line was quiet for a moment. Then the voice huffed down the line. “I once kidnapped you.”

“I am aware. Not quite sure what this has to do with my current request.”

“I interrogated you for hours on Renard’s whereabouts.”

“Aware of that as well. I am also aware that the incident you speak of happened ten years ago. More.”

“Nico threatened to castrate me if I ever laid a hand on you again.”

“I was not aware of that. That seems misguided.”

“When Donovan found out, she threatened to castrate me too.”

“Donovan is really a sweet woman.”

“She’s a Hundjager.”

“….Lovely fur.”

The voice on the end of the line huffed in amusement. “Renard broke my nose. Because I took you.”

“You became friends later. And no one can tell your nose has been broken.” He gestures to the open air with his pen.

“Are you appealing to my vanity, love?” The voice at the end of the line turned to a purr.

“Will it work? I have a dead line.” He returns matter-of-factly.

A chuckle on the line. “Don’t we all? What’s your real play? You wouldn’t be changing this horse midrace, he’s too profitable and we both know it.”

“There’s another royal in the mix. I was rather hoping you could assist me in destroying him.”

“And that involves betraying Renard…How? What’s in it for me, darling?”

He smiles and twirls his pen once more.

*^*^*^^**^*^*^*^*^^*^*^**^*^*^*^

He heads to Renard mostly out of memory, which is odd, as he’s only been there once or twice. It isn’t hard to find, the building is crawling with undercovers and wesen trying to look nonchalant as they stand in groups around the block and glare at people they don’t know and nod to cops they do. 

God, how many wesen are cops in this city? He expected a few, but the number was expanding every time he looked around!

Was this Renard’s legacy?

He loses himself in thought and allows memory to guide him past the doorman, into the elevator and up to the penthouse suites, where Renard keeps him home. There is a man sitting in the hall as the elevator opens, looking at him placidly as he steps out. He doesn’t seem like much. The handcannon on his hip may be slightly more telling. Nick hesitates for a moment, because he doesn’t want to get into a shoot out but that’s how today has been. He wonders briefly if the man will be a problem, but Mr. Hand Cannon just pulls out a newspaper and begins to read.

Realizing that he must be on of Renard’s guards (or apparent fans), he does his best to nonchalantly ignore him and knock on Renard’s apartment.

*^*^*^^*^**^^*  
The knock on his door is unexpected. He isn’t expecting anyone, and Nico or Thorne would have called to let him know they were coming up. 

A quick curl of panic hits his gut but he forces it back down ruthlessly. He cannot afford it now, not while his body weakens. He retrieves his gun where it has been lying on the table, keeping it down by his leg as he walks to the door, ready to fire if necessary.

If only it could be Siegfried.

But it isn’t. And a new kind of panic spikes his heart rate, because Nick is here. 

This just keeps getting worse. It isn’t even forty-eight hours since the seal was inscribed, and he is already feeling weak. His woge lessens, the pain from the beating is taking its toll, Siegfried is still on the loose, and the one man he would have made a crossroads deal with not to see while he was in the pitiful state was standing outside his door.

Gods damn it.

He’s startled by another knock. Nick isn’t leaving. He has that look on his face of determination.

He sucks in a breath, and then he opens the door, because Prince Renard is not a coward.

But he wishes he was.

^*^*^**^*^^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^^**^^*^*

At first he’s glad that that Renard finally opened the door.

Then he’s horrified, because no one should look like that. 

Renard still stands proudly, something that his Grimm self recognizes as a challenge, but the man looks like death warmed over. The marks of the beating haven’t healed, and if this wasn’t enough, there was an air of something he couldn’t describe that made his stomach churn.

What was it?

“What is it?”

He’s startled by the voice cutting through his thoughts. He looks up at Renard, realizes the man has asked a question, but that something is digging into his brain and makes him just want to get away, but at the same time, he can’t. Does Renard know it’s there? That ugly feeling? Can he feel it?

“I came by to check on you.” He manages to find his voice.

“I’m alright.”

If he didn’t have his mouth shut he would have claimed bullshit, but with this aura, he was gallantly fighting to keep his mouth shut. 

“I need to talk to you.” He manages again. He glances over at Mr. Hand Cannon. “In private.”

Renard seems to want to argue, but instead just steps aside, allowing Nick entry.

The apartment is dark. The desks are littered with books, centering on a large grimoire that has all sorts of markings and spells.

‘This is a living in interesting times curse’ Monroe’s voice echoed in his head. He turned to Renard.

“Are you cursing someone? Like this guy this...Sig...”

“Siegfried?” Renard rubbed a hand across his eyes. “No. And I am not cursing anyone. I wouldn’t wish those on anyone.”

“Then why are you looking at it?” He feels a rush of paranoia. Is this what that feeling was? He was trying to do some awful spell, like what hurt Juliet?

“I need…This is not your concern Nick. You should be helping Hank catch the Manticore.”

“Been keeping tabs on me, then?!”

“Yes.” His tone was direct. “I am the Prince of Portland, and I am keeping tabs on everyone that has been trying to help fight off my cousin’s lackeys.” He rubs his face with his hands again, looking exhausted.

“I don’t believe you. Your little fox lackey has been looking for squid ink, and he works for you. And I know what that fresh ink is used for.” He’s getting worked up, the stress of the last day is causing him to get louder.

“…You met Thorne?”

“Don’t change the subject. I want to know what you’re doing and why. What do you need to curse someone for? Didn’t yet get enough of that with Juliet?”

“More than enough.” Renard’s voice is softer now, sadder.

It makes him angry. What right did he have to be sad? He hadn’t even loved Juliet, not really.

“I want to know what’s going on!”

The room is silent, then Renard speaks, voice strong and steady.

“I have been afflicted with a curse seal. In less than one day, I will die.”

*^*^*^*^*^**^*^^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^


	10. And this cruel fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind comments. I know I have been MIA for the month, and I haven't forgotten, just got RL busy. 
> 
> Anyway, as an apology, I am posting two chapters, each with a character dossier! I hope you enjoy and continue to read!
> 
> Thank you all again for sticking with this story. I appreciate you all.
> 
> \--Splotchy

He’s dimly aware that he’s somehow transported to a comfortable chair and there’s a glass of alcohol, or what he hopes is alcohol, in his hand. Renard is sitting across from him, mirroring his pose, glass held a bit more elegantly.

Less than a day.

Less than a day and his very complicated relationship with this man he barely knows but has been learning so much about will end.

He barely takes in Renard’s explanation of the curse seal, how it was found on his back after the beating. That his people had been tracking down the sources, trying to find one of his cousins.

How does family do that to their own?

He swallows down what he is vaguely aware must be expensive whiskey. Very expensive, if the wince on Renard’s face is anything to go by. Renard refills his glass anyway.

“What…can you take it off? Rosalee might be able to help, or one of those Hexenbiests you hire.”

“This seal cannot be removed by conventional means. It can only be broken by a predetermined task.”

“Which is? Do you know what it is?”

Renard winces again, goes a bit more still. “I know how to break the curse. But I…I can’t ask anyone to do it.”

“Why not? If it will fix this, what are you waiting for?” Ge gulps down a bit more whiskey.

“…Some cures are worse that the disease.” Renard got up, picked up an old tome and held it out to Nick. “This is the curse.”

He takes the book, still a little shell-shocked. He begins to read.

Große Schwäche Fluch . The curse of Greatest Weakness  
 _‘For in this way, the victim of this seal shall feel their constitution waste away two days after inscribing. …. resulting in a painful death……The only way to break the curse seal is to have an individual pre-emptively remove all control from the victim and exert complete dominance, typically by forceful intercourse.’_

He blankly takes in the words on the page. Not comprehending the meaning, he reads it again, then a third time.

“Is this….Is this curse saying you have to be…to be raped in order to live?” He stammers the question, horrified at the implication.

“Not necessarily.” Renard looked at his drink, then downed it in an impressive amount of time. “If I can find someone that would be willing to…to…”

“Have forceful intercourse?” Nick finishes quietly.

“Yes. Well-put. What the writing means is that someone has to take away my control in order to survive. Seals as old as these often have a sexual component attached.”

“Why?”

“What?”

Nick stared at his Captain. “Why would anyone do something this awful?”

Whiskey fills Renard’s glass again. “My cousin is generally awful. I wish I could say I don’t know why he does this, but this particular ugliness has been around since I was young. It runs deep in my family.”

“How will you….Who are you going to get to….”

“No one. As of yet. I have been thinking…but they would need to be strong enough for the task, and even if they were, how could I ask? There is more than one victim at that point. I cannot…I cannot ask.”

“Surely there’s somebody you trust to do this.” Nick whispered, still contemplating the horror of it all.

Renard hesitates, and Nick is suddenly struck with a realization.

There is only one person he knows that can go toe to toe with Renard.

 

^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

“We’re headed to the east side of the neighborhood. I have multiple reports of hostile wesen terrorizing peaceful wesen in the area. A few of them are repeat offenders, and I will be damned if I let them continue after the beating they received last time they pulled this shit.” Donovan shrugs a bulletproof vest on. “Monroe, you’ll be heading out with Nico. You two are coming with me.” She glanced over at Wu and Griffin, pleased to see they understood and were preparing to strap on their own gear.

The control center she had taken them to was more of a two story suburb house that a pair of Reningen had been more than happy to offer. They had grown tired of the fighting in their quiet neighborhood, and had leapt at the chance to help rid the place of the trash.

Wesen police and several humans in the know had been slowly filtering into the neighborhood for the last few hours, taking up residence in whatever house was open to them.

“I’d like to take this moment to say I’m really more of a lover than a fighter.” Monroe’s voice piped up behind her.

“Which is why you’re with Nico. If I wanted deadweight, I would have requested a mayor’s aide. Besides, you aren’t a badge and we will be very visible and I don’t want questions asked about civilians on my riot squads.” She checked a gun on her hip. “We’re expecting an incursion at nightfall, if Nico’s men are correct-“

“I checked those facts myself.” The dark haired Luison walked in (speak of the devil), “If they don’t show up, it’s because we got to them first.”

“Let’s try not to leave swathes of dead wesen around. It’ll drive down the market price of these homes.” She said, checking a riot shield. “Any news on this Mantcore running around?”

“Not a lot. Possibly likely to show up.” 

“Good.” Hank said, checking over a shotgun. “Just what I want, Round two. As an aside, are we gonna try to arrest any of these guys?”

“If they survive long enough to surrender, I’ll consider it.” Donovan joked. Seeing the uncomfortable looks, she backtracked a bit. “A majority of these wesen have already got a rap sheet so long that if we could prove it, they would be in jail already. For life. As it is, they walk free because no one can believe that something that looks like a human most of the time could do things like rip apart late night joggers or eat little girls because it was ‘fun’. They don’t deserve your pity. Don’t waste it.”

Wu looked up from his gear. “How do we tell which wesens are enemies or not?”

“If they attack you, shoot them. Easiest distinction.”

^**^*^*^*^^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^

He holds her hand because he loves her. He likes to think she knows that, even if his stupid mouth gets in the way. She squeezes his hand back, a momentary comfort before the next part of an emotional roller-coaster.

“Are you sure this will work? This relies on a lot of things that are outside of our control.” She asks the other man in the room.

“I am confident that Siegfried is far too arrogant for his own good, and I know Nico has been checking flights and boats into the city. I know Nico, if he can’t find Siegfried, he’ll cut off his escape routes. Which will allow him to play into this trap.” Thorne ran a hand back through slightly unkempt hair.

“Are you sure you can trust this man?” Tracey pushes.

Her Boss showed a flash of sharp white teeth. “Absolutely. We have a very profitable agreement, and if Benny likes anything, it’s money and humiliating royals. I could have offered him sand in payment, he still would have joined in. As it is, he has more to gain from sticking to the agreement. But I’m nothing if not thorough-I need you two to go on vacation.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but his boss waves him off. 

“You two haven’t taken a vacation in years, and this is more a working vacation. Take the backups of the firm’s files, keep them with you and get out of Portland for a while. Don’t forget the special files, either. Come back in two weeks or when I call you.”

“W-what will you d-o?” He asks, stuttering voice hopping and tripping.

“Benny and I have a deal I’ll be helping him see through. I want to make sure when the dust has settled that I have a firm to come back to.” Thorne fixes them with a look. “Go. Have a vacation. Maybe when you get back I’ll have secured a new building.”

“Third one’s a charm?” She asks as she pulls Ferdinand towards the door with their still clasped hands.

“At this point, I’d believe anything.” Thorne waves them away.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^

He walks. 

His conversation with Renard has shaken him greatly. When confronted by the question, Renard had solemnly told him that yes, he had been considered as one of the people that could have helped him with the curse. But that Renard hadn’t wanted to ask him. That Renard had believed he’d messed up Nick’s life enough.

He stops numbly on a street, staring at nothing, but replaying all of the times Renard had tricked him. All the times Renard had helped him, all the times when he had been frustrated at the man’s lack of transparency, this thing with Juliet he was still trying to fix.

This was all so jumbled. So unfair. To everyone. He wanted to be angry at Renard. And he was. He was furious at the man, the curse, this cousin he had never met. This situation where he would have to hurt a man he grudgingly admired in order to help him. 

Would he help him?....Yes. He could help Renard, in the most awful way possible. He didn’t like Renard, hadn’t even thought of him this way, but he didn’t want him to die. He still remembered the Captain before the Zauberbiest.

But he couldn’t just walk in there and hope it worked out. This was rape, regardless of whether Renard had asked for his help. He didn’t want to have sex. Or he wouldn’t if it weren’t for the fact that he would die without it. 

And not just sex, rough sex. With his boss. 

This sucked.

He rubs a hand over his face. Trying to think. If he took the consent issues out of the question, then it was just rough sex. 

He could do that. But he would need to get angry.

Not difficult. It was Renard.

 

*^^*^**^*^^*^**^^**^*^*^*^*^^*^**^^**^^*^*^*

**Character Dossier #1**

Nicolas ‘Nico’ Suenos 

Luison wesen

Nico was born into a state of conflict between two royal families, leading to a life as a mercenary at a very young age. He flourished in this environment, a luison’s natural cunning and proclivities making rising in the ranks child’s play. During that time, he had been indoctrinated with an ‘us against them’ mentality, viewing wesen as being separate from humans. This separationist view was shattered at the age of twenty-five, when he met a human woman and fell hopelessly in love. After several months, their meetings resulted in the conception of their first child. Knowing that the political climate they were in would result in the death of his love and only child, he spent all of his savings and smuggled all of them into a new country, changing their names and identities. He found work that allowed them to scrape by, eventually crossing paths with Sean Renard on a case the man had been working. Renard began to hire him for odd jobs, eventually leading him to a position as one of Renard’s right hand men. At this time, he has four children with another on the way.

_Personality_

No-nonsense and ruthless, Nico has no problem taking out the trash, especially if that means it makes his home a bit safer for his family. He is loyal, but his family will always come first, regardless. His family is also no one's business, and as such, he doesn't mention them inside of work or with anyone he doesn't consider a friend. He lives his life by a very simple code of rules. That simplicity causes many of his opponents to flounder, because attempts to deter him more often than not fail. Life as a mercenary has given him perspective, but life as a family man has tempered that somewhat. He trains his men with great efficiency, and often uses them as spies throughout the city.

_Relationships_

Donovan:

Strictly a working relationship. They both come from violent backgrounds, and both know the realities of Portland’s precarious position. As a courtesy, he keeps her apprised of his movements.

Renard:

He is loyal to Renard, and respects the man’s vision, as he stands to benefit from it greatly. He usually works exclusively for Renard, but has been known to take on side jobs, usually from Thorne or Donovan. As Renard’s top enforcer, he is responsible for creating and implementing many lines of defense.

Thorne:

He respects Thorne’s abilities, but cannot fathom why he would put himself in harm’s way. Though he would never speak it out loud, he knows Thorne would be a liability in combat situations. To his frustration, this does not stop Thorne from using bizarre, yet effective measures. He considers Thorne an asset regardless, and has placed his building under a hidden security rotation.*

* This would be slightly more effective if Thorne didn’t give out bonuses to the intern that spotted the hidden guards first, or order pizzas to be sent directly to their hidden positions, tipping off anyone and everyone that they were there.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware, there is sex in this chapter, wherein the sex can be considered non-con, but con out of necessity,
> 
> Thank you all for reading,
> 
> Splotchy

^**^*^^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^^*^*^**^*^*^*

He tries to drink a bit more whiskey, but it tastes like ash. A while ago, Nick had left, shell shocked from the apartment. He couldn’t say he was surprised.

He had sent Nico’s man off the floor in a fit of pique, finally tired of the man’s constant presence. At this point, there was little he could save him from.

He debates calling his mother, but decides not to. He doesn’t even know where she is. He debates calling Nico and Thorne, but they will be busy shoring up his empire.

As it is, he is coming to the end of a depressingly short list of people to call when the door jumps on its hinges from the force of the knocking. Even as he feels a tug of weariness, he leaps to his feet and looks through the keyhole, barely registering Nick, before pulling it open. Something terrible must have happened-

He’s shoved up against the wall with surprising force that knocks the wind out of him as the door slams closed and locks automatically.

He’s surprised and a little angry as he looks at Nick to demand a reason, but his words are cut off by a kiss. Or an attack. Either way, his wrists are suddenly pinned to the wall by Grimm strength. The grip feels like iron and suddenly he’s aware that he doesn’t have the strength to break it. 

A hitch of panic goes through him, because this is starting to feel like that night at sixteen, and his mouth opens a bit in a gasp, the only outside show of panic he can allow himself.

Nick takes the opportunity to kiss harder and deeper, pressing his body into Sean’s larger frame. The scent of the Grimm invades his senses, and suddenly a different sensation is spreading through his body.

Heat.

He is dimly aware that the curse is most likely to blame for the heat pooling in his body, just the last sadistic blow. To make the victim desire the sex, to know they were being forced and wanted it.

The heat pooling in his stomach makes his legs tremble a bit, fully aware that Nick can feel it. He also needs air, but Nick doesn’t appear to notice. A harsh swipe of a tongue in his mouth startles a moan from him.

Nick breaks away for a moment, chest heaving. He looks at Renard, and he imagines Nick sees a man aroused by rough handling and barely able to stand on weak legs. Is he repulsed by the image? Is he-

“Bedroom. Now.” He pulls hard on one of Renard’s arms causing him to stumble a bit as he’s led back to a bedroom-the guest. Nick has ignored the Master Bedroom, and he’s oddly grateful.

He’s relieved of his shirt as Nick pulls it roughly, barely allowing it to clear the splint on his arm before its flung away. The belt next. The pants. The boxers.

He’s shoved hard onto the bed and Nick pins him to the bed, somehow managing to lose his own shirt in the process. He leans in with that attacking kiss again.

Sean hasn’t even tried to fight back. His thoughts are scattered, trying to parse out what was happening, what reactions were his and which were the curse. Nick did something with his hips and his brain went blank for a moment. A stifled moan slipped out of his lips.

“N-nick….” He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. 

“Be quiet.” The growl is still angry, but there’s an undercurrent of softness to it, and Nick’s grip on his wrists are a bit gentler.

He closes his eyes as the growl rumbles close to his chest, causing that warmth in his belly to radiate outwards. 

The lips that had been attacking his mouth moved to his throat. His zauberbiest nature made a token resistance then, trying to shift away from the show of dominance. It was met by another growl and a hard bite that made the biest in him whimper and roll over. Had this been any other time, he would have fought harder. But his weakness, the curse, and the smell of a strong, dominant Grimm made his resistance nearly impossible.

His arms pulled above his head and held in place with one hand as Nick fumbles with something with his other hand, stopping to press bites into the side of Sean’s neck. The intrusion into his body is too fast, and not particularly pleasant, but startlingly efficient. He moans anyway, heat pooling into his body in tighter coils. It has been years since Sean has been with another man and Nick appears to be familiar. The slicked fingers are still slightly painful as he is prepared. Not long after, the fingers are removed and he is urged to his stomach. 

His heart beats a little harder then, anticipation and a slight dose of fear. A strong hand grips his shoulder and forces him down, cheek on the mattress. He does not prefer this position, but the strong grip that has moved to his neck keeps him in place. It also causes him to get lost in the sensation of heat for a moment as the display of dominance makes his hips jerk a bit. This distracts him partially from the hard push of Nick pressing inside of him in one clean thrust. 

He arches in surprise and a cry, but he is immediately pressed back down.

“You don’t get to move. You stay just like that, or you don’t get anything.” The demand is harsh, but the hand on his neck is gentle. He settles under it, clawing the mattress as the pace is set. 

A strong hand is on his hip, holding him in place as Nick thrusts into him, causing the heat to build deeper and deeper. The pace is brutal, and he can feel himself reaching the precipice faster than usual.

Just as he is about to slip over the edge, the hand on his hip moves and wraps the base of his cock. Startled by the sudden touch and the grip where Nick had been avoiding before, a groan falls from his lips.

“You don’t get to cum yet.” The dark voice is near his ear, and he can feel Nick draping across his body, intimately pressing against him, causing his heartbeat to triple. “You don’t get to until you beg.”

His mouth goes dry at that. Sean had made a career out of not begging, and now this.

The grip on his cock tightened and words started coming out of his mouth unbidden.

“Please…”

“Please what?”

 

“Please, I beg you. Nick, _please.”_

The hand returned to his hip and the still gentle hand on his neck stroked a thumb on the back of his neck tentatively, then the rough pace resumed robbing him of all coherent thought as desire and pleasure roared through him, leading him to the edge. Just before he went over, he felt teeth bite between the left shoulder and neck, into the hated curse seal as if to obliterate it. He came then, whiting out suddenly as his body overloaded his mind. He is aware that Nick has come as well, but exhaustion takes its toll, and he slips away from consciousness. 

>^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^**^  
**Character Dossier #2**

Captain Jaimie Donovan 

Hundjager

A vicious fighter that refuses to say die, when Thorne discovered her she was caught between ‘honorable suicide’ and death by the hands of her own kind for her refusal to serve a royal. At first not trusting the unknown fox, she was forced to accept his help, and was transported to the states. Settling in Portland, she floundered for a time as all she knew was battle. After foiling a robbery, she was asked if she wanted to be a cop by a wesen officer. Deciding this was the best path for her at that time, she went to academy, rising fast through the ranks due to her natural instincts, finally gaining respect and a life that would not have been available to her otherwise. 

_Personality:_

An ex-Verrat, she was trained to be loyal and vicious, but was disgusted by her supposed master, going so far as to strike him (which is why she is no longer allowed in France). Her loyalties are now reserved for her beloved home and for Thorne, who treats her like a person instead of an ex-Verrat, which she believes she may never really be able to thank him for. Her Hundjager nature makes her combative, and she views any authority that has not earned her respect as not deserving it, which makes her relationships with politicians strained. Her brutal honesty has also strained that relationship, but strengthened it for the men and women under her command. She will fight to the death to protect the civilians of her city, standing for the law for those she protects. She will also step aside and let Nico clear out any interlopers without batting an eye, as they don’t deserve her protection. 

_Relationships_

Renard: 

She views him as a royal, but grudgingly accepts that he isn’t a complete loss. No one can change the circumstances of their birth, but she has no desire to help him if the end result does not align with her own agenda.

Nico: 

Their similarities are a stark contrast to the jobs they hold, and theirs is one of professional respect. They both know they have a place in the new world, and they know it could be bloody. 

Thorne: 

Perhaps the friendliest she’s ever been with a man she has no intention of sleeping with, she adores Thorne but would never tell him. She is also exasperated and amused by him, as he has no fear of her whatsoever. He was the first to ignore her ex-Verrat status, leading to others to start treating her like a person rather than the weapon she was supposed to be. Of all the people she knows, she is the most attached to Thorne, and as such, expends slightly more effort in his safety.  



	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo friends!
> 
> I am so glad that so man people are getting enjoyment from this fic. It should be wrapping up pretty soon, but would you believe that I'm already into a sequel? Hopefully it will be just as enjoyable, because I doubt Renard and Nick's issues will be resolved in this one.
> 
> I would like to thank you all for your patience and encouragement with this fic. With my current RL popping up, it can be difficult for me to post with regularity, but I promise I'm trying. And thank you to all of you who kudosed/commented on previous chapters.
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Constructive criticisms are always welcome, comments are loved, and flames will be read with panache and dealt with similarly.
> 
> \--Splotchy

*^*^^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*

He wakes slowly, arches his muscles slightly, aware that he’s now under a blanket.

Naked.

A second of confusion enters his mind before his memory rushes back, sending a light spike a heat in his gut.

What had he been thinking, allowing that to happen? Was Nick alright?

He struggles upward, sore but not slowed down by the murky weariness he had been feeling. The blanket stays wrapped around his waist as he searches the apartment.

The Grimm is nowhere to be found. But there is a flash of memory just below the surface of a Grimm’s dark voice and his biest curls in on itself, angry and embarrassed by the submission.

He is relieved, in a traitorous cowardly fashion. He shouldn’t be relieved that he doesn’t have to face Burkhardt. 

A trip to the bathroom allows him to steel himself and twist to take in the flesh of his back. The seal was swiftly dissolving into an amorphous stain on his skin.

He feels his heart soar at the sight, but has to tamp it back down. The fight is not over. Siegfried is still running around in his territory. 

He returns to a brief examination of the seal. It will probably never dissolve completely. The most powerful curses always left some mark. There is also a deep bruise there over what had been the center of the seal, a dark purpling mark with what looked disturbingly like teeth indentions. 

_Please._

He swallowed a bit as some of the memory came back, causing his body to shudder. He wondered how long it would take for his body to be back firmly under his control.

But he had his life. And he had his strength back. 

And he had every right to beat Siegfried to death with his bare hands for the last couple of days.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Night is falling rapidly, and somewhere, someplace, there will be a conflict. He desperately needs one. Anything to take his mind off the ramifications of what he had done and what that meant for his future.

He had been too afraid to stay. To face Renard when awake and back in control. 

He was being a bit of a coward, but this is what he has to do to keep functioning. He needs a fight to clear his head, and he knows the others will be in the middle of one.

So Nick drives.

^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^^**^^*^*^**^^*^*^^

“Think we should call the brute squad?”

“I’m fairly sure we are the brute squad.”

“I swear to god, if you two keep making Princess Bride references I will gut you, I mean it!”

“…Does anyone want a peanut?”

“I. Will. Gut. You.”

There is soft sniggering behind them as Wu and Hank keep on their mostly suicidal needling of Donovan. The atmosphere had been getting steadily tenser and heavy as squads of police officers, wesen and human alike, had taken up strategic spots throughout the neighborhood. Everyone was nervous. Some of them looked like they might pass out. 

Wu dealt with fear by cracking jokes. So did Hank. Donovan apparently didn’t, but she had been taking their humor with a great deal of patience, even cracking a slight smile when Wu started comparing wesens to Pokemon (for no real reason other than to see how Donovan would react).

When the tension started to break, and a few wesen officers began to trade jokes with Wu, the rest of them began to relax, not looking ready to gun down the first thing that moved.

Which was good, as the first thing they saw was Nick.

“Welcome to the party, Partner.” Hank called out as Nick jogged out from behind a house. He was not wearing riot gear, but a fair amount of wesen were giving him a wide berth, same side or not. 

Hank also noticed that Nick seemed like he was very uptight. He wondered if his meeting with the Captain had not gone well. He also wondered if any of the bad wesen Nick met up with tonight would survive the encounter, because Nick looked…

Looked a little angry? No, that wasn’t it. It went beyond anger and just really looked like he needed to hit something. 

Well, there weren’t many places he could fulfill that particular need. Luckily, he was in one. 

A brief burst of chatter on the radio had Donovan snapping out a command. Wesen and police started hunkering down, prepared for anything.

They came in with just enough fanfare. A bunch of cars, a bunch of hoodlums yelling. They parked in obnoxious places, and did they really need to park on a row of mailboxes?

They came out of their cars, hooting and yelling, getting ready to cause trouble. There were enough officers around that they’d be outnumbered three to one. Was this the big incursion Donovan had been expecting? This was very anticlimactic. 

When officers started pouring out of the woodwork, the would-be trouble-makers tried to run. They didn’t get far, and surrendered when faced with the display of force.

“This is too damn easy. “ Donovan muttered. 

It turns out she was right. And three officers got taken down by an angry manticore before she was able to call out the warning. 

Hank and Wu had faced off with this thing before, but not with his creep show backup dancers. The Manticore had come out of the darkness followed on the heels by some of the ugliest sons of bitches Hank had ever seen. They also didn’t feel any qualms about attacking human and wesen, cop or troublemaker. 

As it was, they outnumbered the cops on the street. This was gonna be ugly. 

Not nearly as ugly as it would have been if there hadn’t been a few dozen cops hiding in the houses though.

When they started streaming out, the big nasties realized this fight wasn’t gonna be as easy as they thought. Hank actually grinned at the look on the Manticore’s face. 

There was a pause, a moment of time where either side held their breath.

“Is this truly necessary?”

The silence was deafening as a man stepped out of the shadows from behind the Manticore and his buddies.

“I greet you all warmly. I am Siegfried, of the Renard royal house. I know you have all been living a life of confusion under Sean Renard, and I am here to help you. The royal house Renard wishes to reclaim this land, and place it under the rightful rule of my family. You will be guided by my hand, and I will show you how wesen are to act.” The man walked a short ways in front of the Manticore and stopped in front of Donovan.

The silence had been deafening. Now it was a void that sucked in all sound.

Until someone piped up.

“Fuck you and the royal horse you rode in on!” Someone that sounded like…yes, it was first-name-Lieutenant Demarco. The old cop was practically dwarfed by his companions on either side, but he was smoking and shooting a rude gesture at the royal.

Hank had a new goal of what he wanted his life to be like at Demarco’s age.

Siegfried’s eyes flashed in rage. “My dear cousin has obviously been too lax with this territory. You will learn respect.”

“If I haven’t learned respect yet, some poncey foreigner ain’t gonna do it for me.” Roars of laughter from the cops next to Demarco made the royal turn an interesting shade of purple. 

“Obviously you will need to be dealt with more permanently.”

“Try me.”

“What is so wrong with all of you? Can you not see that Sean is not fit to rule you? He is not even here to face me, hiding somewhere like a coward while his servants,” He pointedly looked at Donovan, “fight his battles.”

Hank glanced over and saw that Donovan had gone entirely still, lips white with rage. If she had been a dog, she would probably be frothing at the mouth and headed straight to Siegfried’s throat.

“A battle that a coward starts by underhanded tactics?” A female officer called out. “That a coward attacks under the cover of night, because he is too afraid to face the Prince on even ground?”

A few mutters and what sounds like growls start circulating through the ranks.

“How dare you! I am not a coward! Your ‘Prince’ is for not showing up to fight his own battles!”

“I will admit I’m a bit late.”

The voice cuts through the noise like a knife, and almost as one everyone looks at Sean Renard.

He wears a bulletproof vest over his uniform. He’s come to fight, despite the fact that the bruises have not yet healed and his arm is still injured.

The two cousins stare at each other. Siegfried seems confused and surprised. Then it seems he comes to a conclusion and opens his mouth.

Sean Renard moves remarkably fast for a man with his injuries and a tooth goes flying off into a nearby manicured bush. Siegfried staggers and stumbles back to the safety of his Manticore.

“You will pay for this. You will all pay. Kill him.” He points at Sean.

There is a moment when Captain Renard looks like he will be taking on all of these Ugly bastards on his own. Then the cops behind him start moving and Hank raises his shield and goes along with it. Hank is swept forward in the ocean of blue uniforms and riot gear and they crash like a tide against the shocked group of wesen in front of them.

Hank barely managed to get a riot shield up when something got spat at him from an incoming wesen with ugly, beady eyes. There’s an acrid smell as it hits his shield, and he doesn’t bother trying to get his gun forward, he just put his weight behind the shield and slams into the ugly sucker. It squeals, makes a nasty sound, but it can’t seem to spit anything else, especially when a flash of gold feathers comes from his right and suddenly Ugly Number One isn’t moving anymore. He barely has a chance to nod to that cop before he’s aiming a gun over her shoulder and shooting a big ugly hairy wesen that has another cop pinned to the ground behind her. 

There’s a yell of pain that sounds like Wu and he looks around to see the Sergeant holding gamely onto the back of a monstrous rhino-headed wesen (and how the hell is that a thing?!), slowing it down just enough that a pair of officers can go toe to toe with the beast. One of the officers seems to ripple and then doubles in size, swinging a fist like the incredible hulk and knocking the monster onto its knees. The other stays human and raises a gun to fire.

His attention is jerked to the side as a wesen with hysterically long teeth and stripes knocks an officer to the ground in front of him. He moves forward to cover the young man as the beast seems to narrow in on him. 

It’s so interested in him, it doesn’t see Nick come in from the side to dispatch him.

“Jesus!” He curses as Nick keeps moving and disappears into the melee to a group that’s outnumbered. “Thanks Partner!” He yells into the throng.

A familiar roar pierces the air and he turns again, still covering the young man that’s trying to get up off the ground. 

The Manticore is trying to kill Captain Renard. Apparently it just found out that Renard is a hard bastard to kill, and paired up with Donovan, it was nearly impossible. 

There was a wide berth in the fighting around the three fighters. Donovan had somehow managed to get the barb of the tail trapped in her riot shield, and was gamely hanging onto it against the wrenching of the beast as it tried to sink its claws into Renard. She gave it a tremendous pull, giving herself enough room to bring a wicked long knife down with intent.

The Manticore screamed in rage and agony as the tail was severed. It turned to strike a blow at Donovan, leaving a side wide open to Renard in its rage.

He’s never really seen Renard do the beast thing before, but he’s damn glad The Captain’s on their side. He moves with inhuman speed. The Manticore goes down to the ground hard, just a scant few inches from tearing out a piece of Donovan’s face. She doesn’t even flinch, just changes the position of the knife in her hand and uses both hands to drive it home.

The Manticore doesn’t move a whole hell of a lot after that.

The kid cop has finally struggled to his feet and back into ready mode, shaking his head like a dog. He might be a dog, for all he knew. 

“Ready to get back in this?” He yells over the melee. The kid shoots him a bloody grin. 

“For Portland and Prince Renard!”

“For getting these assholes outta here, at least.” Hank replies as they jump back into the fray.

*^*^*^^**^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

**Character Dossier #3**

Salazar ‘Sal’ Thorne

Fuchsbau

Smart, calculating, and generally unflappable, Thorne has the dubious position of being one of Renard’s right hand men. Physically unimposing, he uses his disabilities to give him the upper hand, as many of his opponents confuse his physical weaknesses with overall helplessness. Intelligent and ruthless in some situations, he has a fearsome reputation in legal circles, despite only being an accountant. His heritage is mixed, an English mother and a Russian father, whom took his wife’s last name in an unprecedented show of progressivism.* Both parents saved up money to send their only child to the best schools they could, but anti-wesen opinion made it difficult to complete any courses in their entirety, leading to wide and varied knowledge base from being self-taught. Originally wishing to enter the royal court in Russia, he was turned away partially because of anti-wesen sentiment, and partially because of the injury from early childhood that left one leg nearly immobile. Humiliated, enraged, and fearful, his parents enlisted a travel company and sent their only child as far away as possible, to a land that was not yet under Royal rule in an attempt to provide Thorne the opportunity to rise above the station he would have been forced into under royal rule.

Thorne managed to eke out a respectable living until he discovered a small group of wesen living on the outskirts of the town he had settled. While helping them, he ran afoul of Prince Sean Renard, as a young officer looking into a string of crimes in the area. After their previous encounter had been resolved, both saw an opportunity in forming a business relationship, which led to a fruitful and profitable arrangement that allowed Thorne to expand his own powerbase and granted him an access which had previously been denied to him-entry into a royal court.

* While his father was very progressive, it may have had more to do with the fact that he was a wanted man in several countries. His mother had loved him regardless.

_Personality:_

Thorne has no illusions about his own usefulness or irreplaceability. He knows that if a major conflict between royals were to occur, he would be as expendable as any other piece. That does not mean he makes it easy. He also considers an attack on any of his underlings to be a personal insult, as he cannot reconcile the logical knowledge of their expendability with his emotional attachment to them. This extends to those outside of his leadership, such as Renard and Donovan, and to some extent Nico, with whom he has an antagonistic relationship with. To those he is comfortable with, he is sarcastic and dry-witted, and loyal to a fault. To others, his business countenance may be all they know. 

_Relationships_

Nico:

Perhaps the most complicated of relationships, Nico and Thorne have a long standing antagonistic relationship. They are not, however, enemies. They simply don’t care for each other’s methods, but keep a close eye on each other’s backs regardless. Both being big picture men, they put aside all animosity for the greater good, and revert to tolerated distantness when working together is no longer necessary. Thorne personally manages the finances that Nico has left under his care, and has been manipulating the ones Nico doesn’t know he knows about for years, in order to assure that he can keep Nico’s family in comfort and to ensure that Nico has enough funds to keep things running smoothly for Renard.

 

Donovan:

Responsible for Donovan’s entry into the states, the pair seem to work together out of sheer stubbornness. Hundjager have a long-standing animosity with Fuchsbau, but Thorne is friendlier with Donovan than any other person, even going so far as to tease the dangerous woman without fear of retaliation. Ex-Verrat are supposed to be rabid dogs, but Thorne’s lack of fear while interacting with her encourage others to do the same.

Renard

Thorne’s relation with Renard is one deep loyalty and efficiency, but tempered with exasperation. He not only views Renard as a good Royal and a valuable business partner, but also as a friend. He doesn’t voice this, as Renard needs to cling to some propriety. He is respectful towards Renard, but has no problem pointing out the flaws in Renard’s reasoning, which would have put him in an incredibly suicidal position with any other royal.


	13. Our home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo everyone!
> 
> I told you it would wrap up soon, and I was struck by inspiration. I hope you enjoy the last chapters!
> 
> Thank you all for reading!
> 
> \--Splotchy

Monroe has never vandalized a car before. 

Well, that’s not technically true. He has, in his misspent youth, caused minor damage to cars and houses. Farm animals.

Nico, however, destroys cars with a few quick rip of wires and a nasty looking knife that he calmly slashes the tires with. He also takes a few items from the car.

Then they leave. There’s a fight going on, and Nico just drags him to the car and leaves.

“What exactly are we doing?”

“Cutting off escape routes. I took this from the car. Can you track this?” He hands over what looks like a pocket square.

“Not on the road. That would take hours and we just left where this guy was likely to be.”

“I’m not interested in where he is. I’m interested in where he’ll try to be. He has the resources to leave quickly. We need to slow him down so that Prince Renard can get his hands on him.”

“Why don’t we just go after him?” Monroe asked, confused.

“Because Prince Renard wants to do him in. I’ll happily allow it, but I don’t want our royal visitor to get away. He’s caused too many problems.”

“…So…where are we going?”

“Airport. I found this in the car.” 

Monroe takes the personalized stationary. It’s just a note about maintenance, but the letterhead has an address.

“Wait, so…oh! You want me to sniff out the plane!”

“…Among other things.”

^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^**^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^

She has been thrown through windows before. Defenestration is not her favorite pastime. The glass gets in her hair, there’s no telling what she can land on, and if someone has been tossed through at the same time, there is a fifty-fifty chance that one person will land on the other.

Luckily she landed on top of Renard and Wu, so she’s got that going for her. The men shift up, sore but ready to get back into it as the melee continues outside the house. She brushes glass off her front and glares at the window. Or rather, lack thereof.

“This was a nice house.” Wu remarks as he struggles up.

“Looking for a new place to live Sergeant?” Renard asks as he does the same, shaking off plaster. There are roars outside as the siegbarste that tossed them in here gets jumped by about a half dozen cops, all looking to bust someone’s head.

She is so proud of them.

“I was, but this place has a pest problem. We get rid of that, I could find myself living in here. Needs a few homey touches. Carpets. Throw pillows.”

“Windows.” Renard supplies with the ghost of a smile as he picks his way back out, hopping over that sill and landing back outside again.

“Yeah, can’t forget those.” Wu says cheerfully as he manages a less graceful descent.

“Please, god, spare me.” She whispers and looks up. “They think they’re funny.”

Wu shoots her a manic grin just before he has to hop to the side as Siegbarste and six officers come crashing to the ground. The officers stagger up and away, leaving the wesen prone and on the ground. She isn’t sure its breathing. She is very sure she doesn’t care. 

She takes a moment to survey the fight.

The Grimm is god knows where. She saw him once at the beginning taking down a snake wesen trying to kill a Maushertz officer, but he had disappeared after. The only indication of his presence is the looks of shock on some officers’ faces as he appears in their periphery and takes off for other prey.

Points for style. 

There is a group of officers marching forward like a Spartans, using sheer numbers to corral the remaining aggressive wesen into easily managed groups. Some of those groups had surrendered. They were mostly made up of the Trouble-makers, who looked like they had not been informed of the sheer brutality of what they’d be facing. Demarco and Griffin were keeping the line moving.

The pockets of resistance are small, but they are there, and she picks the biggest one and starts walking.

When the group sees them approach, a rogue blutbad tries to go after Wu.

Wu slams his rifle in its face, sending the wolf to the ground. Renard grabs it by the scruff and throws it into a car. Not the side of a car. Inside of it. The blutbad stops trying to do anything after that.

The rest of the group goes silent, staring at Renard with something very close to fear. She barks a command at them, and they start getting onto their stomachs.

The fight is pretty much over after that.

But her job is not. While the cuffs are slapped onto those lucky enough to surrender, she takes stock of her people.

A few are not moving, now being attended by somber faced officers. Others are barely upright, bleeding. Many are supporting each other as the fight wanes and the adrenaline seeps from their systems.

She opens her mouth to call for 911, but medics are already streaming into the battlefield, slipping swiftly through manicured lawns and mailboxes to care for the wounded. They ignore the bodies of the enemy wesen.

One of the medics comes up to her, but she waves them off in favor of getting to a young steinadler that was breathing difficultly and trying to stand. When she gets the young man to a gurney, she’s passed by Renard with another officer held carefully in his arms. He places her on a gurney, careful not to jostle an obvious head injury.

Its things like this that make Renard tolerable.

She makes sure her people are cared for first. Always. But she can do nothing for the five officers that will never move again. 

She hates herself for that, and when she glances at Renard as sheets are pulled over the brave men and women, she thinks he might hate himself for it too. 

*^*^*^*^*^*^^**^^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

He’s livid. It should not have happened this way.

Oh, yes, he was sure there would be resistance. There was bound to be, with Sean’s rule. They were wild beasts under his hand, they probably couldn’t help that. 

But Sean should have been weak. He should have begged for mercy. He was going to be helpless after the royal forces showed up and routed the measly defenses of this backwards territory. But then he showed up. And he had the gall to attack an actual member of the royal house, not some…some worthless bastard wesen!

And he wasn’t under the influence of the curse. He had been strong, strong enough to take down the Manticore, even if he had used that Hundjager bitch.

He has his guard and driver escort him back to the car when he finds the battle turning in Sean’s favor.

He is spun into a new dimension of hell when the man discovers the slashed tires and the torn wires. Siegfried snaps at the man to get them out of her by any means necessary, which to his shame is by hotwiring a ridiculous car from a nearby house and driving it away. It reeks of domesticity.

“Get me to the airport. Immediately.” He hisses, kicking away some lurid bright toy from his feet.

He fumes to himself, rubbing the heavy bruise forming across his jaw. He would pay for laying a hand on an actual royal. Siegfried would come back with an army.

They reach the airport with little issue, the fighting far behind them. 

But something is wrong.

His servants are gone. The hangar is dark. He directs his driver to the lights.

He almost screams for them to go off again when he sees what has been done to the plane.

^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^^*^*^

Monroe is enjoying himself so much, he has to call Rosalee and give her the play by play as they drive off to another destination.

“And we slashed the tires on a plane. And painted the windows black. And I took some of the inner mechanisms, I think I can make a clock out of this. You think I should send it to him?” He asks excitedly, mischief tinting his words.

“Only if you want an angry Prince to hunt us down.” She giggles.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Have any of those stewards and stewardesses shown up yet? Wait is that the proper term? Or…”

“At this point, refugees seem most accurate. I just got a call from one, she didn’t seem to believe we’d actually help. But I convinced her and they are headed this way. I have already gotten a giant Klaustreich hanging out just outside of the door. He gave me coffee.”

“…Is it good?” He asks after a moment.

“Of course it’s good. Who runs an empire on bad coffee?” Nico mused from the Driver’s side. “That’s Zero, by the way. He’s her bodyguard.”

“…how do you know where she lives?” Monroe asks after a moment.

“I know where everyone lives. And I have a yellow book app on my phone.”

“….Oh. See I was a bit worried, you have this Soprano/Scarface mobster thing going on and I was getting a bit worried that I would find a Nucklavee’s head under my blanket when I woke up tomorrow.”

“That wouldn’t be my style.”

“That’s good.” Monroe said, relaxing a bit. Despite his overall creepy vibe, this Luison was not so bad.

“I would blackmail you into putting the Nucklavee’s head under your own blankets so that I wouldn’t get my suit dirty.”

And that good feeling was gone.

*^**^*^^**^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

**Character Dossier #4**

Ferdinand 

?Wesen

Struck with a speech impediment from early childhood, Ferdinand took a lot of teasing at an early age, which caused him to throw himself headlong into his studies. He developed a knack for numbers, which later turned into a scholarship at a prestigious school. While looking for work, he found his choices to be extremely limited. His inability to speak without stuttering made holding a job difficult, despite his mental acumen. This changed when he was pointed in the direction of Thorne, whom he wrote letters to and sent his resume in the hopes that he would get a job before the man realized he couldn’t speak. He did receive a job, but only after he sat down with Thorne and had lunch. He was forced to reveal the shameful stutter, but was pleasantly surprised when Thorne hired him anyway. He worked for Thorne for several years, eagerly pouring his heart into his work, which later was rewarded with a junior partnership.

_Personality:_

Sharp but sweet, Ferdinand doesn’t have very many mean bones. He’s well-liked by his coworkers, and enjoys the trust of his boss and the other junior partner. Because of this, he’s often sent out to meet new clients. That fact that very few people can lie to him because of his wesen nature is also the reason.

_Relationships:_

Renard:  
He listens to Renard because Thorne listens to Renard, but does not answer to him directly. If Thorne ever decides to fight the royal on a subject, Ferdinand is directly behind and to the left.

Nico:  
He respects Nico, and greets him warmly, but his loyalties are to Thorne and they both know it. Attempts by the luison to get information on Thorne’s whereabouts often lead to confusing or downright wrong information. Turnabout is fair play-he is much better at getting information from Nico’s men.

Donovan:  
Initially terrified of Donovan, he takes his cues from Thorne and tries to treat her as friendly as he can. He is still intimidated by her at times, but their relationship is much warmer.

Tracey:  
To say it was love at first sight is untrue. He didn’t get a good look the first time. The second time was much more effective.

 

Tracey

Skunk wesen

Most wesen know to avoid Skunk wesen, often leading to lonely lives. Tracey spent most of her young life being homeschooled, and then falling into a bad crowd. One of her youthful transgressions caused her to cross paths with Nico, which ended with her gang being thrown in jail. She managed to escape, but was tracked home, where Nico informed her she was wasting talent. He offered her a job, but her family refused to let her get mixed up with ‘mercenaries’. When he discovered she wasn’t bad with numbers, he offered a different alternative-work for an associate of his called Thorne. After meeting Thorne, she agreed to a job to keep herself out of jail, and worked long after the agreed upon time was up. She eventually became a junior partner.

_Personality:_

Sometimes abrasive, but extremely effective, she doesn’t allow obstacles in her path. Her drive and desire make her an incredible asset. She shares her boss’s cunning streak, and has been known to turn tables on adversaries.

_Relationships:_

Renard  
Much like Ferdinand, she doesn’t answer to Renard. She stay to the back and right of Thorne in any conflict involving Renard.

Nico  
She owes Nico for getting her the job she’s in, and won’t forget it. If Nico is able to give a reason that she should give him information that she is satisfied with, she will give him any information he desires. That being said, he has never abused that trust.

Donovan  
Initially fearful, she has grown to respect Donovan as a strong woman. She takes her cues from Thorne, ad treats her as a friend.

Ferdinand  
He loved her first. She took a while longer to come around. But their bond is now very solid, and they have been debating some time away for a while now.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Mostly Siegfried in this chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> \--Spotchy

^*^**^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^

He’s panicking. 

His exit has been blocked. It will take time to book a new flight, and he needs to leave immediately. He will be too obvious on the road, too slow. 

No plane, no car. That only left by sea. There were always people at docks, looking t make a quick coin or find themselves being owed a favor. If he could only get down there without catching unwanted attention, he could make it to home and raise the force needed to deal with his usurping cousin.

He snarls at his driver to get him to the nearest docks, which the man hurries to comply. They hurry down the roads in this disgusting vehicle, and he is relieved when no one stops them. There are no officers out. They must all be toadying to Sean.

The docks are dark and he feels a trill of fear in his chest as he notes the lack of lighting. He orders his man out to look for someone to grant them passage away from this hell hole.

After twenty minutes, he is cursing the ineptness of his driver. After twenty-five, he is attempting to convince himself the man is soon to return. After a half hour, he has to entertain the thought that he might not be coming back

A sharp tap on his window causes him to whip his head round in terror. 

The man outside cocks his head and gives him a smile. He’s impeccably dressed, with a hat settled jauntily on his head.

God, this would have to happen in this horrible little city.

“I am not looking for company.” He hisses through a crack in the window. “Peddle your wares elsewhere.”

The man’s eyebrow shoots up. “You’re not my type. But you should know that your little friend isn’t coming back. He took off over the fence and ran back into town. Must have been your company.”

He snarls in rage and exits the car. “You lie! He would not abandon his royal master!”

“Whoooo, ‘royal master’, eh? Can’t say I’ve heard much about that since I left London. Shame, the area around here has really gone to the dogs, literally and figuratively. You let a Hundjager into the police force, everything goes to hell. Could probably use a royal or two, but then I wouldn’t be so good at my job.”

“…Who are you? Are you wesen?” He asks, bewildered.

“Benedict. Benedict Weaver. And you?”

“Lord Siegfried, of the House Renard.” He said with distinction.

“Your highness,” The man says mockingly and then gestures between them. “You, my dear royal friend, are trespassing on my docks.”

“You work for Renard.” He states, dreading the reply. He will not admit that the noose closing around his neck has him anxious.

The other man snorts. “Of course not. He’s a sorry excuse for a leader, and I’d be rid of him if I could. But he’s got too many little minions. Too many little friends. Hell, I caught one just today, and I’ll probably have to drown the little bastard. He even tried to claim he was just Renard’s accountant. Had all these stupid notebooks with files.”

“You have…what exactly do you do, Benedict?” There is an idea forming in his brain that will be brilliant and turn this around.

“Transport of…rare materials.”

“You are a smuggler.”

“A bit. And a respectable business man.” The man eagerly added. Siegfried could see a path to exploit.

“…of course. It seems you and I have similar goals. I too wish Sean Renard to be gone from the city. And if this man is truly his accountant, I could have my people look into these…files. You would be compensated. But I need passage out of the city as quickly as possible.”

“How do I know this works out for me?” The man tilts his head. Siegfried briefly wonders if he is some sort of bird.

“You and I can be partners. We will rid the city of Sean Renard, we can bring royals to the city. You of course, would gain standing as a wesen in high regard with royals.”

“How do I know you won’t just take the files and leave me out?”

“You have my word as a true member of House Renard. And besides, what would you have done with those files anyway? Thrown them away?” He persuades.

Benedict seems to mull it over. “Very well. You have a point. As it so happens I do have a ship going out tonight. For the small price of your favor, you can hitch a ride. And your watch.”

“My watch…you cannot be serious.”

“Boats don’t run on dreams and cake, your highness.”

He glares and pulls his watch from his wrist, handing it to the smuggler.

“Right then. Come along. We’ll grab those files and you will be on your way.”

He follows the man a bit more closely than he would have in daylight until they get to a shed. Benedict throws the door open and the first thing he sees as the other man walks in is the blood mixed with water on the floor. There is a man tied to a chair, bloody and unmoving, and he does look like the pictures he vaguely remembers of Sean’s accountant. Benedict sweeps a notebook with a pendrive off the table covered with metal instruments and blood and hands it to Siegfried. 

He has to control his flinch as something drips from the book to the floor, but this is his opportunity to ruin Sean for good. No territory could last without funds.

He smiles at the other man. “This is the start of a great partnership, Benedict.”

“Please. Call me Benny.”

*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^^**^*^*^*^*^*^^*^*^**^*^

**Character Dossier #5**

Benedict

When Renard came to Portland, he had to contend with a criminal element already in place in the way of Benedict ‘the brit’. A smuggler that specialized in black market materials and transport, he viewed a royal in his city as the beginning of the end and started waging a legal and criminal war to oust Renard. What started from skirmishes turned into a bitter battle of wills. In a fit of pique, he kidnapped Renard’s accountant, hoping to get some sort of blackmail material on the royal to expel him from the city. After talking to Thorne for hours, alternating conversation with interrogation, he came to the conclusion that Renard may not be the worst royal to have in city and that he’d run his own enterprise into the ground trying to get rid of him. After agreeing to a meeting, he let the accountant loose and later met with Renard to discuss the future of Portland.* After heated discussions and arguments, an uneasy truce was founded, and the battle was over. Life with a single royal in the city turned out to be profitable, and his own empire grew, as did Renard’s. While they are not technically allies, as that would bring down the full force of the other royals, they are business partners and relations between Benedict and Renard are far warmer now that they were ten years ago.

* The meeting was nearly derailed when Renard broke his nose for kidnapping his accountant, but Benedict took it as a sign that this royal may be different. Most of them would have let the Fuchsbau rot.

_Personality:_

Sassy and entirely unrepentant, Benedict likes power and money. He is currently happy with his lifestyle, and is unlikely to change. He’s a shrewd business man with a sadistic streak, and is known in Portland for being a bit of a pirate that has a penchant for targeting and humiliating royals. He does care deeply for some people, but as reputations take lifetimes to build and seconds to destroy, he tries not to show it.

_Relationships:_

Renard:  
Formerly antagonistic, their relationship has settled into a partnership. They cannot directly ally with each other as that would bring the interest of too many aggressive parties, but they have been known to deal on occasion. He is wary of Renard because he knows Renard is a man of principle, and he carries a mean right hook.

Nico:  
Cheerfully favorable towards Nico, they have spent many hours discussing Portland’s safeties and weaknesses. He enjoys helping Nico test the newest countermeasures-whether the luison knows he’s about to do it or not. They share a special camaraderie, despite the threats Nico has every intention of following through.

Donovan:  
Constantly at odds, Donovan and Benedict are classic examples of unstoppable forces meeting immoveable objects. Disliking each other immensely, they can barely stand to be in the same city together, much less the same room. If it is not her Ex-Verrat standing, it is his lack of respect towards any uniform. Regardless, he does have a grudging respect for her abilities, and has marked her as being one of his greatest threats.

Thorne:  
Oddly simple but still Bizarre, they have bonded despite all odds over a common interest-money handling. While Benedict has any number of illegal enterprises to funnel money into, he does keep a slush fund of legal tender that Sal manages. In turn, he has been supplying Sal with any number of items the fox might request, and has been known to join in on schemes that promise to make him money.


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I have finished the first work. The second is already in the works. I hope you enjoy as it is posted as well, and I thank you all for sticking with and reading this work. If you have any comments on how I might improve, please leave them! I love to read different perspectives.
> 
> Thank you and much appreciation,
> 
> \--Splotcher

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Epilogue

He and Nick haven’t been talking outside of work. 

They didn’t really anyway, but now the distance between them seems insurmountable.

He understands that it was necessary, knows in his gut that without that night, they would probably all be dead or worse, but he can’t help but feel the blame. He never wanted to put Nick in that position.

He catches Nick looking at him from time to time, but he doesn’t know why. Perhaps he wants to talk. He’ll let the Grimm come to him, and he’ll pretend its benevolence and not cowardice.

Wu comes in to drop off some papers. He’s actually glad Wu has been informed of Wesen. The man has the sheer gall to egg on wesen officers even knowing what they are, and he’s fast becoming a favorite for it. Trust Wu to end up with fans for treating everyone, wesen or not, with the same smart-ass attitude that has gotten him into trouble with any number of superiors. What is the most fortunate about the situation is that he’s still treating Sean the same.

He is intensely grateful for it. 

Wu leaves with a snappy salute at the goddamn bear sitting on the edge of his desk.

He’s going to kill Thorne for that. Wu he has to murder on principle.

After he had gotten home, after the news that Siegfried had escaped, he tried to return to his life as before. The injuries and the fights had made that difficult, and he had just expected to plough through it. What he did not expect was the outpouring of support, the constant watch and guard as he moved through neighborhoods. Wesen actually came out of their houses to speak to him, to keep an eye on him until he left their neighborhoods and got passed onto another group of helpful wesen. They were ridiculous, and at first he had been absolutely bewildered. Then he had been exasperated, and tried to (politely) dismiss them. They had refused, and now he was just bemused and a little perplexed by the support. And when Wu had told him they did it because they cared, he had been equal parts grateful and ashamed. What kind of leader didn’t know when his people actually cared?

And then the gifts started coming in. It had been a week since the melee, and his apartment was covered in flowers and fruit baskets and yes, the odd stuffed animal. Including the treasonous little bear in a police uniform that his accountant/lawyer had stolen from his hospital room and sent to his office. He suspects the reason it won’t leave is superglue and his Sergeant. 

Principle.

His current favorite underling, Nico, has been patrolling the borders like a restless wolf ever since the melee. From time to time, he’s allowed Nick to travel with him at the borders. They’ve caught a few of the stragglers. The stragglers didn’t make it into questioning, either suicide by Grimm or because Nico has very little pity.

He pulls the paperwork to him and open it. He frowns at the top of the stack, an article about a terrorist cell in London. He flips through it, then spots a picture at the bottom.

Siegfried does not look well.

He reads the article fully. His cousin is charged with a great deal of serious crimes. Apparently he had been tied to the cell by his watch and files in his possession.

The timing was very convenient. Which meant that either Nico or Thorne had a hand in it. And to pull this off, they would have had to ensure his escape. 

He should punish them for that. But if the court of public opinion dealt with Siegfried, then the royals would be dealing with their own publics, and couldn’t spend all their time on some backwater territory they couldn’t expend the resources on. 

He read the article again, and then shredded it. It didn’t matter.

That fight was over. For now.

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Things were finally going back to a semblance of normal. As much as it could be. He now had a lot more wesen to talk to, and they were curious about him. He’d gone out patrolling with Nico, and that was an eye-opening experience. He decided not to do that very much. Especially after Monroe’s cryptic comment about wesen horse heads and blackmail.

There is movement from the office and he sees Wu leaving the Captain’s office with a shit-eating grin. It probably has something to do with the bear in Renard’s office that the man can’t seem to get rid of. The official nickname of the bear, though no one has told the Captain yet, is ‘Cuddles Renard’.

Captain Renard would murder them all if he found out. The wesen officers think it’s hysterical. It is pretty funny.

He takes the time to take a quick look at Renard.

Renard is looking better. He’s glad about that. 

He hates that he can’t speak to the man. He wants to talk to him about that night, but how does he start that conversation? Renard, we need to talk about the one-night stand in which I…

Shit, he can’t even form the words in his head, much rather out of his mouth. This really sucks.

He’d have to let Renard start the conversation. It was probably the only way to speak about it.

At least for right now.

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End file.
